The wading pool is shrinking with the wasted sun

and the yellows of summer drain slowly away

exposing red bricks beneath the glittering spray.

With cast-off toys and leaves littered about their feet,

the bone-soaked nine-year-olds will squeal, crash, and run

through the last drops of liquid bronze and breaking heat

until the old pipes steal their gold and end their play.


Other poems about summer from Moss Kingdom:

A Closer Kind of Warm: a break-up-with-summer songThe Leaves RememberAugust’s EndAll This Juice and All This JoyTo the Grasshopper and the Cricket by Leigh HuntA Seduction: in Four Seasons