-This poem opens Book III by entering late summer, where the fierce brightness of high summer softens into golden light, reflection, and quiet fulfillment.
The light no longer climbs so high,
it leans instead through field and tree,
laying its quiet amber hand,
across the places summer knows.
The orchard glows with softened fruit,
the meadow gathers longer shade,
and every fence, and path, and stone,
holds warmth without the noon’s demand.
No haste remains within the air,
the crickets sing with gentler measure,
while swallows stitch the evening sky,
above the slowly cooling earth.
This is the season learning grace,
not less alive, but more at peace,
the bright day ripened into gold,
before it yields to what comes next.