Once the fireworks fade out to smoke
time crosses a line, recognizes
the long slide past the Solstice.
Recognizes the inevitable.
Nature pushes toward completion,
toward procreation, flowers, seeds.
Fruit ripens, pods fatten,
fledglings find their own food source.
High in the sky, the wind goddess
turns her head toward the setting sun.
The wind dog flies ahead, and over all
A contrail traces the tracks of people through the sky.
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(c) Quinn McDonald, 2007. All rights reserved.
