Summer's End (Summer 1421)
There are shadows here,
Where none were yesterday.
The leaves and birds on the tree
Lie in shillouette on the study floor
It is still summer but, each day,
Brings less of morning, more of night
As summer gently fades into fall
And the west wind brings the smell of sea salt.
A slight coolness in the morning air,
A more golden light to the afternoon sun,
These bring me little joy and no comfort.
Before harvest I follow the gull's cry.
I have known for so long that I must go.
Still, I wish to plead for one more day,
One week, one season before my farewell.
There are so many goodbyes to make.
The apples are almost ripe.
Will I taste this year's cider?
The wheat lies golden under a turquoise sky
But I will not see the harvest.
I go for healing to a sacred place,
But what can be more holy than Sam,
Sunburned and with dirt under his nails,
Coaxing beauty out of the earth?
Each day than brings a sliver less sunlight,
That leaf floating gently to the ground,
Fortell the end of summer and my journey.
I will follow the setting sun to the west.
- Orangeblossom Took