Let us go then, you and I,
where the shadows touch the sky,
sunset shadows touch the sky,
a ruddy sunset of an evening -
early Autumn, barely breathing
with its changing of the time.
Look at the changing of the time
as tired Summer limps her dance,
routine motion, almost trance.
You can tell she's almost done,
you can tell she's nearly done,
letting go now, changing tone,
entering into that last, lone zone
of peach and apple, changing leaf,
peach and apple, trembling leaf
soon to sleep beneath the snow,
soon the Summer, she must go.