Come Hither

Another summer is poised to close. My mind is so low on the horizon it's making inappropriate gestures to fall. Come hither. Quickly. I'd like to talk to you. In fact, I'm making arrangements for hikes and bonfires and Deep As Lake Superior Apple Pie. My poems are lining up for migration into a chapbook. My offspring are polishing their shoes for school. I'm falling into silly rhyming. Oh, do come hither. Do, do, do.