The old barn moans and groans
as bones creak on this coolish day.
Stepping outside into fields of corn
I watch the winds conspire with
the grass to tickle the setting sun.
From a dark cloud drifting above,
a lone snowflake floats down and
stings the tip of my cold red nose.
I express a tinge of sadness as
my summer dream drifts away.
Twilight time chases the day away
near the dead crab apple trees on
the old farm where I once roamed.