INDIAN SUMMER

I cannot believe
it is the cold
that  impels grasses 
to become dry, colorless,
cracking beneath my feet;
or  leaves to turn
flaming red, 
parched yellow,
sun baked brown.

Instead, it seems,
unrelenting thirst
brings these days down,
slowly seeping 
the lush moist green
from vital cells.
Now only the dull,
dust covered evergreens
leave a hint of 
summer's hope.

© 1996 Judy Anne 

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