End of Summer

This is the end of summer, I think
 like dandelion seeds blown by,
unnoticed,
 as you descend the waterslide
 all too quickly.
The calendar says that summer will stay
 until mid-September, when the equinox
tips the balance of days down the autumnal hill,
  rolling in leaves on the way down,
    and finally landing in a snowbank.
My mind insists that summertime must last
 at least these final weeks before school bells
  ring an end to morning naps in the sun
 and afternoon swimming pools, and evenings with friends.

But I cannot help feeling that here
 the year is flying past, already wheeling south,
 an early harbinger of changing winds,
 nearly unnoticed
 beneath the soft breeze
 breathing in my window.