The jewel weed is blooming 

In the late summer field. 

It's strangely sad that sweltering days 

are coming to a chilly end, 

Like a love affair that smolders 

with desires and resentments, 

Kept in teetering balance 

Till the tipping point comes sure as bills. 

And what once filled the dancing heart 

Now spills ashes on the floor. 

But while the jewel weed still blooms, 

The lingering high sun brings to blossom 

what could be, 

Then rolls downhill to the icy cold 

of what will be.  

(8/22/15 JM)

It's nice to feel an air conditioned day, 

Nature's changing thermostat 

set just where I like. 

Leaves on the trees disagree:

some are red with anger 

that Mother Nature turned off the heat,

some are yellow with fear 

for the coming chill of winter,

and some have fainted dead away, 

lying on the ground.

(9/22/16 JM)