All seasons pass.
The spires of lupine and foxglove fall,
Wrecked by rain and time,
Their colors left to shine
Only in the memory of the world.
Already the hopeful hollyhocks
Are reaching for the sun,
Eager to take their brief turn
On summer’s festive stage.
It is the way of things
To come and go.
To flare as flame--
To shine a moment against the dark--
Then disappear.
So we linger 
On this summer evening,
Waiting in the long light
For the first fireflies,
Their tiny lanterns rising up
On the last breath of day,
Like us,
Offering in this twilight interlude 
Our loves, our dreams,
Our hopes, our prayers
To the God 
Of all flowers, fireflies, and stars
In whose timelessness
All seasons pass.
--Timothy Haut