Summer’s Over by Joan Currie

I knew summer was over
well before the usual
signs appeared:

maple keys settling
on my patio stones,
squirrels digging holes
for forthcoming acorns,
school supplies
flooding box stores.

The sheets on the line—
still damp by mid-afternoon,
not the iron-pressed heat
I’d held against my face
only a day before.

Many of the things
I had hoped would happen, did,
but not in the way
I had planned.

Still, I want

more!

So much more!

I heave a little
self-indulgent sigh,
and look forward to
what the fall
has to offer.