There’s not much good left to say. Summertime has gone away.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This could be our last warm day. Summertime has gone away. No more time for livin’ easy. Fall will descend, cool and breezy. Soon the leaves will be aflutter. Piling in the lawn and gutter. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2565","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem-2"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":2177,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=2177","url_meta":{"origin":2565,"position":0},"title":"Mickey Charles Mantle (’31-’95)","author":"Rick Young","date":"October 20, 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"When I was a boy, around eight, nine and ten, I had a good imagination, but just one good friend. And he, my friend, was Mickey Mantle, needed dad menage, a summertime mirage at my side, out against the garage. My grip, exact upon the small bat handle, I'd run\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":718,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=718","url_meta":{"origin":2565,"position":1},"title":"Moon Mulling","author":"Rick Young","date":"March 11, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Burning photographs does not destroy the past. Our history is etched inside the bone. The smoking world outside our eyes was never made to last. The song of time gone by is just a moan. That black cloud on the mountain will circle for us soon. 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When a feathery wisp like a dancer sifted up from the earth to the sky, a spattering rain, a heartbeat in pain, etched a\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":888,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=888","url_meta":{"origin":2565,"position":3},"title":"Toy Box","author":"Rick Young","date":"April 26, 2017","format":false,"excerpt":"Madness is in the eye of the beholder, said a man who lived in a toy box. It's accepted when a kid or much, much older. In the interval between, it shocks. His walls once were Lincoln Logs and Plastic Bricks. Each toy in his box had their peculiar tricks.\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":2761,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=2761","url_meta":{"origin":2565,"position":4},"title":"The Week Will Inherit the Earth","author":"Rick Young","date":"March 2, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"It was just the saddest thing I'd heard. Blue Monday's sun was eaten by a bird. It took off to the moon. That light was gone too soon. And now the dark's just waiting for the word. More bad news came the next day as I feared. 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