Suffocating heat by mid-afternoon,
barefoot relief by dusk.

3 am – an ease arrives, just a breath, just enough…

7 am, the smallest delicious murmur
of autumn’s cool reveals itself.

The year has turned,
and despite a forecast of triple digits today,
I can already smell
musky late October rain approaching.

That’s the thing
about the end of summer: it’s achingly familiar.

It’s predictable
and makes no apologies for being the same —
year after year after year.

But I am not the same,
nor is my heart.

And this too,
is achingly familiar.

© martha lee phelps

About Martha Phelps Studio ~ creative on purpose

...a meandering journal of a changing life and the unexpected graces it brings. Earlier posts may provide some history, but this series of writings aren't likely to follow a straight line as I explore topics such as raising kids, making choices, self discovery, the impact of change on a family and how to (hopefully) live with balance and purpose.
This entry was posted in Poetry (matters), Siftings and Essays of the Heart, Through My Lens, Written by Herself and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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