Crickets begin their one-note sonata
now in the lazy afternoon shade,
chirping through the night.
Monarchs are the butterfly kings,
floating above what’s left
blooming in the garden.
The neighbor’s ash tree hints
at what an early frost will yield
with a bough or two of yellow.
Porchlights go on a bit earlier
every evening.
If you’ve been around
The Midwest long enough
you know what’s coming.
It’s in the air; you can feel it.
Change.
Philosopher Heraclitus
said it is the only constant in life.
One not need be a sage
to realize the irony in that truth.