The Last Day of Summer

She saw the kittens two weeks ago, suddenly 
three of them, still wobbly, unseeing, now sleeping 
on their mother, somewhere in the backyard, 
milk-drunk, like their new eyes. 
The trees are nodding softly as the day cools, 
the hidden sun now sinking.  "I saw them digging 
in the dirt," she tells me. "They look strong---
I think they're going to be strong."