Summer cannot possibly last

I say to myself summer cannot possibly linger
Yellow worry-free days
And peaches from a green plastic pail
Up to the elbows in sweet lazy juice
Warm shadows, and ringing
Of the trickling water from rusty old tins
Nailed to the heavily breathing dark wooden wheel
And fragrance of mint with a touch
Of bonfire

When August is bleeding to death
in the dust
the old shrunken cherries are still filled with sweetness
But the summer cannot possibly last