Last vestiges of summer

I finish my run
through the marsh and into the valley
where I am dizzied by the sudden flash of green.
here, along the creek bed, I find
the last vestiges of summer
Where the sheltered understory of maples
are still fourth-of-july green

I imagine seeing it from above
and mentally trace up the fingers of the tributaries
where the last green drops of summer's juice still linger

I slow to walk up the hill, reluctant to leave
and come into the cemetery
where it is already autumn
the last of the leaves are bravely holding onto the lone ash.