You can feel it in the air. Cooler nights and the whirring of late-summer insects whisper to us that the end of summer is coming. They remind us to pay attention. Because nothing lasts forever.


The boys have just left
leaving a trail of empty beer bottles in their wake.
Another summer (begun with such an illusion of abundance)
is winding down.

My parents’ home
where I spent my adolescence
is also about to pass away.
The antique hutch, the highboy, and all the knickknacks will soon disburse.
The photos of my young handsome parents
will be cherished a while longer, and then fade.

Even my pictures from Italy, taken last month!
In the past, they would have been carefully mounted in albums.
Now they will be posted on Face Book, or left in a file on the computer
till chance malfunction or indifference wipes them away.

All this falling, fading and ending is the nature of things.
But a philosophical shrug
fails to honor the end of things
that will never be again, in any form.