But for summer

I’m thinking that if
all my intentions are pure
all is for the best.

Of course illusions,
though they appear to be real:
are most often false.

Leaving me to muse
about dreams and memories
of choice and regrets.

And yet not one sticks.
My heart rests easy tonight
clear, fulfilled and near

to capacity.
It seems odd to want nothing
more than to rest, sleep.

This first day like fall:
dark cool, summer all but lost
forgotten and free.