The last bee hovers around a wilting sunflower
As the last leaf turns tawny on the oak.
Rays of honey spill through my window
As I sift through my closet wondering
What to take with me. I reach to the top shelf
And pick a dress. Kids size 4 reads the label
Smudged from too many hot cycles as my fingers
Glide over tattered ruffles at the neckline
And grass stains on the side from catching ladybugs
Under summer’s simpler sun. I press my dress
Against my body, flash to curtseying at a lawn party
Where I danced on my father’s shoes. I sigh,
Then fold the dress to give to the Salvation Army,
Perhaps to fit someone when the bees and leaves return.