Summers swan song

It starts slowly, at first,
as though it's speed would make any difference at all
to the inevitability
of the destination.
I lean back,
receive the full embrace
of the suns outstretched hands;
and I wait,
though for what,
I cannot be too sure.
For natures clock to slow?
Maybe.
For time to turn back and I again find my youth?
Almost certainly.
Most of all though I tarry awhile,
because the air is still around me
and natures hand is dealing me a fair hand.
Soon enough it will be winter
but for now,
right now,
nothing else particularly matters at all.

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