At home, summer's twilight smells of pumpkins
roasting, spiced. Bonfires blaze to warm encroaching
autumn in Penn's woods; red-kissed trees and
goldenrod dot bittersweet September sunsets. But
here honeysuckle tangles wild along the way we
ride our bikes, heady like still-ripe solstice
redolent of childhood: shoulders pinked,
glistening smooth edge shells and ice cream smiles.
Sand trails traipse from bed to beach and back
around. Sun warm paths to wide-eyed wonder,
heavy lidded slumber capping days lived hot.
