by Jane Tyson Clement
At what instant does the summer change?
What subtle chemistry of air
and sunlight on the clean and windsmooth sand?
The small birds at the water’s edge—
yesterday they were not there.
So suddenly the magic door is shut,
the trio suddenly is done,
the clasped hands inexplicably apart;
however clear, however bright,
the road we traveled on is gone.
From Jane Tyson Clement, "No One Can Stem the Tide"
Submitted by your friend and mine, Madeleine.