The Last of the Summer

I go towards the square
Of framed light
And to the glare of noise within -
These silent times are rare moments of calm

How this summer scent still hangs
Shelling the stillness of the moonlight,
The shapes of trees loom black, back-lit
With silver

And the dog stands and stares as I stroll,
Wondering what I am doing out here
At this time of night
Savouring the last of the summer
On my own.
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