The air is still.
The summer sun warmer.
The shadows loom longer.
The plant-life grows fuller
with fruit-heads grown denser
on spindly stalks, sparser.
Awaiting the moment
when chill air reminds them
to unhand their burdens
And give up their ghosts
to a well-deserved slumber.
Quietly waiting,
silent and still,
’til autumn’s first frost leaves them quieter still.