Summer's Almost Gone

A very long time ago I wrote this, one of a very few of my published works:

In early youth the forward flow
was languid, as on summer afternoons
when two o'clock naps
stretched slowly into four,

and I pushed and pulled,
watched calendar pages fall,
yet I could not force the years ahead.

Then downhill time began to coast,
and two-ton years gathered speed,
their weighty bulk falling
through sleepy adolescent nights,

until I awoke to find them
flowing forward, gathering motion,
my days careening out of control.

I can't say exactly what I meant when it wrote it, but the feeling still resonates with me at this time of year.

We're getting ready for our week at the beach, watching the weather reports, and hoping for at least one or two days of good weather. Clouds are fine. I'm not supposed to get in the sun anyway. But actual rain isn't much fun. More later.