Is summer really
leaving?
Hristo Fotev
The broken-open figs on our path
are the footprints of a summer
that’s getting ready to leave.
So far it’s reached our gate.
Like Fotev’s, it’s reluctant.
Bags packed, but diffident,
summer again casts an eye
over quiet, shaded streets,
over bar terraces, parks
and sunflower fields.
Summer's pleased with itself.
Maybe it should be.
Only the breeze in the fig tree
summons it: time to go.
