(inspired by Lyon, France– August 2018)

Indian Summer

I rest on the banks of the Saône,
watching dragonflies skim the river like silk
too fast to capture their ephemeral flight
slipping desperately between fingertips
as I attempt to grasp at the last of September’s day.

The basilica looms across the banks,
white marble stark against the setting sun
it’s a prayer to immortality,
to write this summer into a novel,
a story with no end (amen)
to ride out any inkling of a fantasy,
hands touched by paper and pen,
perhaps even skin
by an Indian summer.

© Rebecca Goes Rendezvous, 2021

22 thoughts on “Indian Summer (poem)

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