Nancy Scott’s most recent poem to appear here was Heat Wave (November 2014).

Indian Summer
By Nancy Scott

Freak snowfall,
and all the leaves have not fallen.
The maple still green.
Afternoon drops slowly into our laps
the apples.
Songbirds have flown and
the shrill drilling of insects dies down.
Wild geese are leaving the lake;
all night long we lie awake, listening to their cries.
The light has changed, though I can’t say exactly how.
Buzzards float on air soft as gauze.
Each evening, wildness comes to the back door–
fox, bear cub, little orphan doe–
and holds us spellbound in luminous eyes.