Waiting for the Fates

Sun stabbing down in yellow shards
the dust still in my nose and mouth
no relief has come to us
the geese are not yet heading south.

I love the spring, all blues and pinks
the bursting buds and misty rains
and early summer smells like rose
and frosting when I watch the trains.

But now I'm tired and how it drags
the rains have stopped, the grass is burning
seeds and fruit are crushed and rot
and still the trees are not yet turning.

Summer, I don't want you now
I've pulled the welcome mat inside
to wait for fall, for candles, apples
while Lachesis and Atropos decide.

Hmmm, in a weird mood and tired of summer I guess.