A Promise

Stuck to my kitchen floor
On the last day of July
While rain distorts the windowpanes,
And thunder rattles the rafters,
Is a red leaf.

Bright like the Fourth of July,
Humble as pine straw,
I thought it was a squashed fig.
My heart sprung at the thought
Of summer over,
Of stormy Autumn,
Of chilly November,
While weather bellows overhead
Of a brief break in the oppression
Of furnace days and sticky nights.
The leaf whispers,
'Soon, soon!'

Copyright by the author
July 31, 2016