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Wednesday, August 3, 2022

Ah! These Are August Days...(Part 1)

There is something extremely evocative in
the sequence of wheat harvest, 
as fields rippling with golden oceans of grain 
dwindle 
to rows of straw 
to sweeps of stubble, 
...erupting within,
 a tango of euphoria and lament...

These are the days of dusty haze as wheat fields disappear...





These are the isles of sun-flow’r smiles before time takes its toll
And bows the head as weathered threads unravel ‘round the soul...




Of children wishful, blindly blissful to past’s bulging cheeks...



 of bare feet, fancy-free...
(and a glimpse of why one little girl sports band-aids on both knees
almost all summer long)😉😅







These are the days of dusty haze as wheat fields disappear
Staccato fire of cricket choir’s veiled, vibrato veneer
Of tasseled corn and love song’s torn twixt rapture and lament
Because the gait of summer’s fate becomes more evident

This is the hour of flower-gardens bursting at the seams
Of baskets heaped with harvest reaped; of living winter’s dreams
Of blankets tossed beneath green-glossed, leaf-embossed canopy
Of stolen breath at life and death’s ingrained velocity

These are the isles of sun-flow’r smiles before time takes its toll
And bows the head as weathered threads unravel ‘round the soul
While fingers linger, tracing faces kissed with mist and dew
Aware of how the air of Now spills thieves of gold and blue

…of monotone cicada drone, of bare feet, fancy-free
The wilding rush as roadsides blush with footloose filigree
Of chicory and loosestrife sea, sow-thistle, hollyhock
Of Queen Ann’s lace to frill and grace the most commonplace frock

Of silk-soft breeze lolling in trees, of hazy, lazy noon
Sidewalks sizzle, days drizzle like gold honey from a spoon
Of fellow fishing, willow swishing sluggish, shallow creeks
Of children wishful, blindly blissful to past’s bulging cheeks

Where duty spars with beauty’s marvelous mid-summer splash
As prudence teases students where wanderlust and work clash
As happiness says 'yes-yes-yes!' while time’s finesse says 'no!'
…momentous molds of holding on to moments letting go

Of gilt-edged dusk, Canadian-Tuscany flavoured fare
Much prayed for rain as cloud-freight trains go thundering through the air
The days when nature’s cello plays in every nook and crook
Where noses lose their way in flower-fray and story book

Ah, these are August Days. Hooray! Of heaven-on-earth feel
These are the frames that twilight claims and yet can never steal
This is the page that sets the stage for poetry run wild
These are the days that summer plays as if she were a child

© Janet Martin

Of gilt-edged dusk...


Much prayed for rain as cloud-freight trains go thundering through the air...




Where noses lose their way in flower-fray...

 and story book...



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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!