Ah! These Are August Days (part 2)

This past weekend seemed to be a heartbreak of tragedies 

affecting friends, family and neighbours!😢🙏

It makes us re-realize nothing in life is ordinary💖

Here's to cherishing what and who we have while we have it

all by the grace of God!

Beloved, let us love one another...

1 John 4:7

Below, part two of cherishing August Days...

(This poem has been a work in progress since posting part 1)

Part 1 here

These are the days when rain-song plays in sudden, sparkling sweeps...

When rainbows run awry in frying pans, baskets and bowls...

When cobwebs catch, like silver thatch on fronds, to patch gnome-holes...

When monarch sport and birds cavorting make us smile and smile...

When shamelessly the honey bee burrows each pollen-nook...

(my attempts at photographing the bees in the Hosta-plume

 resulted in a whole bunch of 'bee-bum' shots!😂

When silhouettes etched on sunsets snag somewhere in the heart...

And the moon sails on silver trails that scale the velvet dark...

These are the days when rain-song plays in sudden, sparkling sweeps

When cricket-trills and petal-frills garnish volatile deeps

When poplars toss silver-glossed tresses, like medallion-manes

And earth is laid with gold and jade countryside-counterpanes

When first daybreak is like a lake of mingled mist and dew

When all day long the cricket’s song serenades me and you

When silhouettes etched on sunsets snag somewhere in the heart

And the moon sails on silver trails that scale the velvet dark

When every day is borne away like pictures in a book

When shamelessly the honey bee burrows each pollen-nook

Its happiness, contagious as it buzz-buzzes and hums

Unruffled, though resembling cookie-dough balls, rolled in crumbs

When jars begin to gleam and grin with summer-goodness snared

Because we know soon chill winds blow and we should be prepared

While growing old drips pink and gold from Twilight’s glist’ning chin

Like a peach-kiss or melon bliss it buried its face in

This is the jot when noon is hot and dawn is crisp and cool

As gossamer of Sweet Summer starts thinning on time’s spool

When rainbows run awry in frying pans, baskets and bowls

When cobwebs catch, like silver thatch on fronds, to patch gnome-holes

When outdoor scrabble duels fuel laughter and lament

‘if I had an ‘e’ cries The Lad, 'then I could make ‘content’ '

Ah, when did ‘small’ become so tall; love aches, sky-deep and wide

Because She feels Time's tireless zeal from which no one can hide

…where the bud grows into a rose that cannot keep its blush

Where it seems ‘winter-dreams-come-true’ are always in a rush

And why are we so suddenly surprised when every year

We wonder at the way August days daze and disappear

…a heart-lurch of workaday church and purposed idleness

When the mundane (hard to explain) throbs with sheer heaven-ness

When flower-sales fill pots and pails, when roadside-vendors grace

The rural route with veg and fruit; impromptu marketplace

When we experiment, invent zucchini firsts and favs

When those less keen on squash cuisine mistrust Miss Cook’s wild raves

…muffins, stir-fries, cakes, appetizers, loafs, quiche, casserole

Salads, soufflé, suspicious grayish ‘oops-soups', bless my soul😅

These are the days when hunger’s gaze is easy to beguile

When monarch sport and birds cavorting make us smile and smile

While swift and sweet, the heat-waved summer’s subtle shuttle weaves

Life’s lissome woo of blooms into a eulogy of sheaves

© Janet Martin