September 7, 2015

Voices


The wind is up tonight,
our patio chimes
singing their lonely song,
announcing another season
in a refrain
I've heard before.
As we slide into fall,
faint voices drift in
from the pool:
Labor Day visitors,
here now the heat
has broken,
speaking in the dark.
They'll awaken
in a strange bed,
unsure of where they are,
how they got here.
I will lose them
in sleep, and tomorrow
they will be gone forever,
on their way back home,
wondering why they came,
at all.