Summer’s Last Dance


I stopped prowling the flower garden a week ago, as the narrow patch of lavender paled, the honey bees dispersed, day lilies lost their curtsies, and my favorite—the crocosmia—plunged into an unruliness to rival Phyllis Diller’s hair. But when I went out for a few minutes before lunch today, surrounded by harsh light and quick breezes, one flower didn’t seem to know—or care—that the dance is over for this year, lost to withering heat and the inevitable cycling of seasons.


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