Labour Day weekend reminds many of us that summer is ending, that summer has passed into memory. Labour Day Weekend is the unofficial end of summer for many. So I wrote this poem about Labour Day weekend.
by Dave Hood
On a cloudy Labour Day weekend,
in a misty rain
I strolled in the sand,
on abandoned Wasaga Beach,
as waves rolled in, seagulls swooped down.
I watched a neighbor pack up,
leave the cottage behind,
a store owner close the ice cream shop,
Listened to kids chat about the new school year,
said goodbye to a few summertime friends
until next year.
God willing, I thought to myself.
Like a bolt of lightning, summer had passed.
A cool breeze reminded,
autumn would be arriving like a yearly visit
from a lifetime friend who rearranges your life
evokes elation and sadness.
Locking the cottage door,
strolling to my Chevy Cruze,
for the journey back to the city,
I think to myself: Life is all about endings
and new beginnings….