A sloughing

Though it is only early August
I can feel fall
Creeping in the morning breeze
A chilled smell
The taste of the first fallen leaves
The sound of ripening apples
Thudding to the long grass
Geese congregating before their long migration
A last blowout before they might not all make it south

Laying in my bed
The fireflies and crickets sing
A melody of their own eventual departure
As I pull the covers more closely to me
To remedy the sudden goosebumps
That have risen over my skin

As much as I love the summer sun
I yearn
For frost to tip the blades of my lilies
I want
The sugar of fresh cider doughnuts
Melting on my tongue
I crave
The scratch of wool on my shoulders
I need
The heft of boots encasing my feet
I know
That for next year to live
This one must die
Slowly
Painfully
Over long months
A hospice patient
Who's chosen no medication
Color bleaching from its surface
A sloughing