Lord of Late Summer: A Poem

While I’m sad that summer is coming to a close, there’s still so much to rejoice in. I was reminded of this on a bike ride through the woods a few weeks ago. Creation’s symphony reaches a crescendo in late summer, and I tried to capture a few stanzas myself. (Ten points to Gryffindor if you take note of the musical motif throughout the poem!)

Grasshoppers praising raise a rasping summer song;
cicada-chorus buzz to long crescendo then rattle to rest.
Hot above the hush, unending chant of katydid percussion and
how-scant crickets chime staccato with tiny shouts  
   singing hallelujah, hallelujah to the Lord of late summer.

Doves perch above on high lines, mourning the fall from treble-holy Maker 
while all songbirds chip, chirp, warble, glide, and gladly feed on seed provided.
Bumblebees, humming, sip the sunny, brilliant blooms 
and bullfrogs rumble, booming out annunciation to creation,
   singing hallelujah, hallelujah to the Lord of late summer. 

Wood wind whispers to me through the trees,
rustling rich-green tambourine leaves that flutter, clap, and jingle as I pass.
I sing, my feet softly stamping log-fallen earth, clay on damp clay,
as Spirit-wind symphony sustains my soul aloft, refrain of rebirth
   singing hallelujah, hallelujah to the Lord of late summer.