NEXT-TO-LAST GASP

Butterflies mass by the hundreds in the dip of the road

                                                                    beside the creek bridge.

Spiders crabbing across the bleached boards

Of the cabin steps, no-see-ums massing in clouds

                                                                         outside the window.

Hummingbirds gone, gophers in burrows.

Thistles appear in shaded places,

                                                         as does the lavender star plant.

Dry end of August. Grasshoppers fly

In bumps and starts and short hops

Toward the brown, long-bladed killing fields of September.

I pooch them along with every step,

Yellow and khaki, diaphanous wings into the future.