End of summer

“September.  It was the most beautiful of words, he'd always felt,

evoking orange flowers, swallows and regret.”  

(from Darconville's Cat by Alexander Theroux)

 

There are no orange flowers or swallows here, just the second flush of pink roses 

and the occasional flutter of orange.

Regrets?  Plenty, of the "things I meant to do this summer but didn't" kind, which means only one tick on the to do list.

Hang on a minute.

 

Make that two ticks on the list.