Thank you, Rico, for that beautifully metaphoric piece on the joys of this season. My eyes filled up as I read it! You inspired me to search for (and find) some poems of mine from ancient days on this time of year and the feelings it brings. Here are two. The "wasps of August" were the trigger!
These Golden Days
Yesterday was Labor Day.
The beach tolerated the passing partygoers
who scattered their laughter
snapped their beer cans
spread their oil on the wan waters
then gassed up their land machines and left.
Today there is a heavy honey in the afternoon light.
Silence drips
into a compressed capsule of sweetness.
I stretch on the warm sand
and the bees swarm thickly around my luncheon plum pit.
Terra Familia
A small area, really.
Your little brown car practically fills the half of it,
standing ready on the grass
doors wung out
futon filling the back seat
tunes stacked close to hand
mountain bike stamped sternly across the back.
As I step out the back door
the bathing suits on the clothesline to the right are waving a brave goodbye.
To the left, the last red August lilies lift their hands.
The road beyond peeps and beckons.
Do you remember, only yesterday,
How you stepped down here, shy and proud, from your teenage bicycle,
Your long solo journey completed? You were home.
It was just breakfast time, as it is now.
Soon you will wheel out, (avoiding the rock),
nosing out Interstate 80,
sucked into the straw of Colorado's inbreathing.
This grass will spring back up,
your cat will prowl questioningly--
The blackberries will still ripen by the garage.
Love, Mom
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