After Labor Day

After Labor Day

The parade of people ambling

on our road has slowly changed.

The vacation-look of bathing

suits with flip-flops have become

less while day to day dress and dogs,

which know the area, become more.

Houses, where charcoal grills had cooked

chicken and sausage, now are closed,

empty until spring. Maintenance

workers are busy draining plumbing,

shutting electricity and checking that

the house is secure.

Bevies of laughing, chattering children

appear at appointed times to board

yellow buses. Later in the day they

return carrying their jackets.

The sun is lower in the sky,

rises later and sets earlier. Geese

realize the changing amount and caliber

of the light and start their annual journey.

The hot, humid days are in the past,

the rigors of a New England winter are

yet to come. For a while we are in our own

Shangri-la.