The height of summer all but gone –
you notice stronger now the cricket’s calling song.
The sand no more so hot as then
when naked raw and fresh your sole
hardly could touch the path along through
reeds and brush and up the dune where
mole and shrew had dug and housed their brood.
Wayward the wind now calls all
words of time and laughter home
where autumn’s sweetness bides
and friendship bids to settle down.
With love from Walter & Colleen
Betty’s Bay Feb 20, 2011