Tag: Summer

Out-of-Season

Four leaves were shed
lazily
in front of me
as I made my way to
Front Royal
today
but they
were all wrong
these leaves

did not tumble
as dust from summer’s
broad shouldered
shrugs
rather
they spiraled,
pirouetted
in the gentle
dance of death
that belongs
to Fall
alone
and I was
undone
by this
brazen
display of
misplaced
melancholy
arriving
not quite a
fortnight
into July
on this
long drive
and my heart
skipped,
gasped,
grasped
at that
missing thing
I can never
define
as the miles
ticked by

Cirque du Seed and Sweat

Safflower found in the rolled up cuff of my too long jeans Odd pieces in odd corners through the kitchen and family room and one stuck to the dog’s belly Safflower sprouting under the steps Finches flinging and slinging safflower in all directions while doves dart across the deck to gather this manna from heaven and paranoid schizophrenic cardinals flit in and out in a perpetual state of “Oh shit! What was that!” and the bombastic bully blue jay appears occasionally and they all skedaddle for safety and it’s hot – damn hot

Summer’s Distillate

This heat
a ubiquitous
infusion
leaching
into my
epidermis like
auburn and smoke
from well-charred
oak
bourbon
barrels

I’m squeezed out tween my staves

Rising above
rows of casks

Essence now air

My steamy vapor
a mingling prayer

I am made holy –
the angel’s share

Second Sight

When I was on
the moon
I saw

odd things

very odd things
I should wish
to explain

but seeing its
elegant
luminescence
with my toes

lightly on
the grass
on a pleasant
summer night
renders
odd things

perfectly
unremarkable

Mayhem In Suburbia

It’s chaos
on my street,
neighbor kids
screaming
blood-curdling
screams
from their
trampoline,
garish
yellow-wheeled
ice cream truck
inching menacingly
past blasting
Pop
Goes
the
Weasel
at painful
decibels
the old fellow’s
a madman
holding the wheel
so relaxed,
expressionless
in the midst
of these facts –
doesn’t he know
the neighbor died
a few days ago?
And I don’t have
any cash.

Interrogation

Thunder is pounding at the front door,
lightning is leering aggressively
through the palladium window
next, I fear, waterboarding
but I know nothing –
perhaps a small something –
that squirrels have a thing
for sunflower seeds
and bees
are keen
on flowers,
hardly anything
to appease
a summer shower
thirsting to swell
its knowledge.
Thunderstorms
have known well
such trivia
since the
opening bell of
forever

Albatross

Finally sun

sans apology
for being gone
so long,
still haughty
and hot
sweat sluicing
down through
awkward spots

Finally sun

My penance for
shooting away
the pouring rain,
burning my neck
sits Sol’s
searing chain!

Finally sun

I must borrow
a towel, or become
a guacharo!
Shall you come again
tomorrow?

Summer Messenger

The air is tacky
against my skin
like fingers
against new paint
not
quite
dry,
an unsettling soup
to fill the
purple belly
of clouds
scraping low
over the western
mountains, destined
for digestion
then an expulsion
of shouts and claps
of thunder