It is cool and gray;
Summer's sun seems to have fled.
Still, the cars rush by.
Mushrooms on my lawn;
Already nibbled by beasts
Who can't wait to trip.
Cool wind blows gently;
Small white flowers bend and bow;
Blue patch in the sky.
Dead leaves on dead trunk;
Sweet smell of freshly cut grass;
Buzz of wood cutter.
Web has caught a leaf;
Suspended on its descent;
Company for spider.
No shadows on road;
Running squirrel carries the light;
Velvet cool breeze blows.
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