On A Late Summer Day

My friend, before the tea cools, and loses its fragrance, let us pour one more cup and share gratifying discourse about the ten thousand things. Not a day goes by without flocks of birds seeking traces of that northward path they will soon descend to restore their southern homes. Not a day goes by without hot breezes squeezing fragrances of early summer across the trembling August air deep within peach-colored apples. Oh, can we bind together like sheaths of wheat these late summer days and store them in a hidden granary for needful seasons yet to come? Already August dissolves into September, which dissolves into October, which disappears in the first snow of November and December ice. Is it true, as you have said, what we cherish we desire forever? Then, let us cherish many things: sheets wrinkled by sleep, pennies stashed in a chest, old letters from distant friends, red and yellow roses, a book of poems given by a dear friend, a diary, a chess set, pictures painted by children, an amethyst crystal, memories of a lost, beautiful love. If it is true, as you have said, what we cherish we desire forever, then, let us cherish many things so that our desires become immortal, and our names unforgettable....