Swan song

This sky is blue,
No clouds in view.
Our wind is calm,
Yet fuels the sailboat beyond.

I sit on the docks.
Removing work shoes, gray socks,
Then my moth eaten sweater.
Curled toes just skirting cool waters below.

With autumn’s embrace, now warming bare arms.
And, too, one weary old soul.
Eyelids grow heavy, surrendering to peace.
Waves playing, our season’s last song.