Hearts a'Busting open their seedfire, their audacity giving me hope for busting out of my own late summer lethargy.
A lone butterfly clinging to ironweed makes an apt metaphor when I feel time, and summer, slipping away. Hang on, golden wings! Soon you will turn into golden leaf hanging onto the branches atop our ridge, then lingering awhile in flight before settling like golden and russet wings to the leafmeal below.
Time's arch, a swish of leaves presaging fall, makes me stop to catch one nano-second of late summer light with a shutter click.