At home, summer's twilight smells of pumpkins
roasting, spiced. Bonfires blaze to warm encroaching
autumn in Penn's woods; red-kissed trees and goldenrod
dot bittersweet September sunsets. But here,
honeysuckle tangles wild along the way we ride
our bikes, heady like still-ripe solstice
redolent of childhood: shoulders pinked,
glistening smooth edged shells and ice cream smiles.
Sand trails traipse from bed to beach and back
around. Sun warm paths to wide-eyed wonder,
heavy lidded slumber capping days lived hot.
