Summers End

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By Albert Ahearn

Gone are the summer wildflowers those many, subtle scented breaths that once allured nectar seekers and me to their wild colonies. But now those lifeless peduncles that once bore inflorescent blooms decay amidst a grand graveyard of myriad, deciduous dead. Gone are the summertime players: the honeybees and bumblebees, butterflies and dragon flies mulberries and elderberries; brief were the roles each had played in their own, spectacular way.

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