Setting sun, in its finale,
Drenching clouds with changing hues;
Glowing bits like shooting stars, Fly up then fade from the backyard fire;
Rising fireflies o’er darkening fields, Myriads of tiny angels, signaling the news:
Soon gone are summer sparks, Brief joys of which we never tire.
Slapping thighs, along with a few mosquitoes, As stories meander in the dimming light;
Water’s magnet still attracting Splashing children too soon grown;
Even quieting voices sharing crossesMake hearts glow in the peace of the stilling night;
Summer sparks become dying embersUnless remembrance be over them blown.