Summer Ceasing

Lush greenery that filled
the soil sparsely spots
in a meadow. The pulpy flower
petals are gone and the leaves fall,
their edges already crisp and
crumbling. From here, I can see all
the colors fading, like washed out ink on paper.

Like watercolor, the dandelions dim
their shine and the daisies wilt
beside. Chunks of wood hit the floor
from dead beat branches. They rot
from the weathering of weather
like downpours and gusts.
When the sun goes down,
a last sprout shrivels, leaving space
for a new bud on a barren plain.