In the ending of the afternoon
A chill stirs the late summer air.
Those who have dozed away
the over-heated hours
realize that the sun has slipped
lower and it is time to catch up.
I, too, have been overtaken
by this feeling that it is later than I planned
and I must rush about my business
before the sun disappears completely.
I have no real business.
No difference lies
between my days and my nights.
Yet, in the lengthening shadows
of the ending of the afternoon
I turn to watch the workers
head home, as I once did
Through the shadows of the
and the final night.