Summer Ending

In summer the pace of things slackens and loses its winter regularity. Dates blur, days blend, we age into a green happiness even the cool air of August cannot dispel. Are we foolish to maintain a summer attitude even as autumn steadily changes the landscape to the threshold of winter? Let our green thoughts prevail, until snow and ice and cold make such cogitation untenable. I will simply be a man of summer, still grasping the slightest sign of its sweetness and light. All too soon events will descend into memories of the seasons' hardships, and we will be pleased with any change that puts us in "a summer first" mentality, but not for long: winter produces its most persuasive arguments in the decline of summer's benefits into into winter's spendthrift accounts.