the farewell summers are blossoming.
stretching their skinny necks skyward
with proud purple heads
bouncing unabashedly on a breeze
that’s too cool for the season.
their instincts tell them frost is coming.
they can feel it in their roots.
i tried to reason with them,
to remind them that June
is reserved for white weddings
and delicate Queen Anne’s lace
and blonde headed daisies
and that we’ve got a whole summer
to slog and sweat through.
but you know how flowers are-
so full of themselves.