Death comes for Summer
in August.

He finds her
in the garden, 

barefoot, 

with blackberry juice staining her fingers

Not yet,
she tells him.

The tomatoes 
still split
their red skins
in the heat.

The bees 
still strain under 
the heavy weight 
of pollen.

Somewhere, 
a child is running barefoot 
through a sprinkler,

believing faithfully
in an endless summer.

But Summer has always known 
that Death would come.

Stay,
she begs the sun.

Just a little longer.

But already

it is lowering itself
behind the trees-

earlier now,

earlier.

Death does not hurry her. 

Together,
they watch the maples
set themselves ablaze.

Above them,

the geese cross
the purpling sky,

calling to one another
through the dark.

Summer listens.

Where are they going?
she asks.

South,
Death says.

Will they come back?

Eventually. 

Will I?
she asks softly.

Yes, 
Death says.

Then why must I go?

Death looks at her-

at the blackberry stain 
darkening her fingers,

at the last light
caught in her hair,

at the fields
still warm
from the day.

Because you cannot stay
and remain
what you are.

You will return,
Death says.

Bur never 
as this Summer.

Never this light.

Never these blackberries heavy on the vine.

Never this child 
beneath this August sun.

The world will have 
other evenings.

Other fields.

Other children 
running barefoot 
through the water.

But this one-

Death looks toward
the sinking sun.

This one
belongs only
to now.

And for the first time,

Summer understands 
what the child does not-

that an hour 
becomes precious

when you understand

there will never be
this hour
again.

So she spends 
the last of her self recklessly.

Gold on the fields.

Gold warming the floors.

Gold trembling
through the trees.

Until the whole world
is shining

with the terrible beauty
of something
that cannot stay.

Then Death 
holds out his hand.

Summer looks once more
at the child,

still running
through the falling water,

still believing
the warm days
will go on forever.

She smiles.

Let them believe
a little longer,
she says,

and takes his hand.

- Caroline Confer