Sunday, September 18, 2016

Summer







summer evening –
headlights stutter
through the pasture fence







lilac shadows
scale the garden wall;
slip off into the woods








lonely evening –
pansies tremble
under the attic fan









he looks perplexed –
the scarecrow
chest deep in the river’s flood













sultry afternoon –
the tumult of rain
upon my umbrella









in the darkening yard,
the sun strikes
the cockscomb’s red











unlatched gate –
the goat eating
the scarecrow’s hat



















we celebrate the equinox –
the sun remains
above it all










pale moon –
the sun-bleached bones
of a sparrow














whatever the weather,
his soft smile –
the buddha in the garden




















boating the oars,
the moon floats
unperturbed









morning stiffness –
the scarecrow
wears my cowboy shirt














hillside boulders –
my folded hands
in meditation
















in the lush grass lying –
just so, one day,
in my coffin













up from the sea,
glistening,
the moon










balmy night –
the full moon smeared
by the gauze of a cloud














halfway home
through the sorghum field,
it begins to rain















the creak of the swing
silences
the hot afternoon













the flood has lodged the moon
in the lower branches
of an oak














summer dusk –
the hollow taps
of a woodpecker















in the gloaming,
fireflies
switch on and off

















grandpa’s fiddle –
to and fro,
the porch swing










lazy day –
the long rumble
of a small plane













clouds roam the blue –
the cornstalks
bend and whisper











the child on my shoulders
reaches
for the fireworks












a hat covers his face –
a picnicker
in the tree shade












hiking through town –
a woman in a swing
waves back














ripples of wind –
trees shush
the twittering birds















gas station;
I choose an Orange Crush –
the heat!











roadside table –
honeybees explore
a spilled cola













summer day –
an old man carves
his grandson a cane flute














picnic on the lawn –
a boy shows me
his broken kite












cut flowers
have withered
at the roadside cross









ah, the heat!
ants trek a joint
in the concrete drive













o sparrow, who cares for thee?
even the birders
seek rarities














vast blue sky
charted by the grid
of my window screen














she walks
the summer street
in and out of shadows

















the old man
shares his lunch
with the sparrows




















making the day hotter –
the rattle
of a timber snake











lonely night –
the owl in the woods
shifts steadily northward











 back home again –
the porch swing
weeps beneath me











national anthem –
beyond the scoreboard
a rising moon












summer’s end –
cumulous flowering
above the shorn fields
















full moon –
even the dilapidated barn
looks majestic
















fording the stream,
they take all day –
the tree shadows














housebound –
in the falling rain,
the sounds of a river
















in the high meadow,
horses graze –
a day moon













making the day hotter –
the jangle
of an ice cream truck














clear summer nights –
the shifting of shadows
on the moon’s face













heavy downpour –
from the porch stepping
into the quiet












one light on –
a screen porch
floats in the midnight vale













rooftop party;
beyond the strung lights,
a summer moon










crossing together
pond and sky –
two moons














after the frog’s leap,
silence returns
to the old pond















a heavy fog
bends the willows,
grays the distant pines
















summer twilight –
the scarecrow
chirruping!

















young lovers in the rain –
when was the last time
I got soaked?



















running ahead to the lake,
following me home –
my shadow









lonely evening –
a summer downpour
engulfs the house











sultry afternoon –
the distant thunder
makes me drowsy


















grasping
at a dewdrop –
these bent fingers










day’s end –
the tree shadows are soft
on the old barn








high, thin clouds
smudge the fern shadows
on the garden wall
















sidewalk cafe –
sharing a table
with a bottlefly









the moon under sail,
gazing back
upon a wake of stars










between Cassiopeia
and me –
fireworks!











a shingled beach –
the moon speaks
under my feet





















at the feathery end
of a dream –
the crowing cock




















wildwood twilight –
the lake absorbs
the rushing stream













lush garden;
a blue sky
in the birdbath

















late summer –
the last of the sun
in a dangling poplar leaf
















evening
has drained the color
from the pines













hot day –
the screen door’s
creak and slam












mild day –
tree shadows sweep
the garden path









rains have left
the river swollen –
a late summer moon



























on a small rise
the summer green
studded with tombstones














fine brushstrokes –
pine needle shadows
on the garden wall













filling our senses –
a summer
city downpour









a footpath
through the paddock –
the smell of early dew










late summer –
seedpods rattle
on the mimosa















evening shadows –
the broken trail
of a firefly




















blackbirds arranged
on the power lines –
the wind’s song











on the pine table –
assorted wildflowers
in a mason jar












unscathed, the moon
emerges
from a summer storm












beyond the fence,
a young horse
races with my automobile








 thick woods;
the sky
follows the river














abandoned house –  
the summer heat,
inside and out













 above the flood,
a dusty 
moon























absorbing the sunlight,
glowing in the dark -
fireflies













night and day,
the fireflies
on and off
















lunch in the park –
tossing our leavings
to the fat ducks












late summer -
copper wishes collect
at the bottom of the well











to and fro,
the tractor chugs –
summer moon































  







summer day –
beyond the paper shades,
sparrows chirrup












 bream fishing –
a brief shower
roughens the lake










a thick woods;
the sound of rain
in the unseen river




















taking its time –
the moon
to cross the river










boating the oars –
the pond whispers
in the light rain










here and there, fireflies;
this day, too,
has come to an end










midsummer night –
in the river current,
a misshapen moon











after
the thunderstorm,
lightning bugs 










through the window screen,
the cooling
sound of rain










in the feed shed –
the first rattle of rain
on the tin roof














lonely evening –
thunder
rattles the windows











after  
the thunderstorm,
lightning bugs








down to seeds and stems –
my bowl   
of sweet red cherries








abandoned farmstead;
winds ripple the grass
gone to seed 








twilight; 
deer saunter
onto the cool green glade











making hay; 
the green fragrance
of the shorn fields








along the fence,
a spring filly  
races my automobile






 
a light rain;
the marsh reeds   
whisper









the old man in his garden
leans on the hoe  
to catch his breath








along the meadow,
summer trees;  
differing shades of green








after the fireworks,
the littered field;
a summer moon 









onset of rain; 
the woodlands
begin to chatter








like game pieces –
hay bales scattered
in the shorn fields








cane pole fishing;
the rustle 
of poplar leaves








atop my empty
mailbox,   
a mockingbird








quiet night;
the pale heat  
of a summer moon








quiet afternoon;
biting into  
a red delicious








luring me outdoors,
the yellow flurry  
of a pine warbler








after a rain,
walking 
the steaming summer streets








at the alley’s end,
climbing – 
a summer moon








beach night;  
a satellite threading its way
through the stars








Saturday sleep in; 
the neighbor’s mower
refuses to crank 








gathering dusk;
the tossed ball,
a smudge of white








summer night; 
a scattering of lights
across the bay








morning trek;   
abandoning the thicket,
a lone thrush








 quiet night; 
just me and the hare  
in the moon








sunlit burial; 
a warbler sings
atop a nearby stone








morning walk; 
remnants of rain
in the tall grass








shimmering day; 
how cool it looks –
the woodland shade








from the embers
of a fiery day,  
the cool moon rises









amid the cicadas’ din,
the hooting
of an owl 









late summer;
the scent 
of sun-warmed pines









overnight mushrooms,
the colors 
of sunrise








sweltering August;
a trail through 
the house-high brambles








sparrow on a nearby twig
wading  
the distant stream








the approaching rain –
sound and scent
of coolness








all evening,
in waves –
the croaking frogs








dusk at last;  
almost palpable,
the summer air








westward, a hooting owl;
to the east, 
a mourning dove








twilight;  
the shadows
shrill with insects








end of summer;  
a field of kudzu
in the shape of a house








shimmering day;
the long rumble 
of an unseen jet









on a gossamer thread,
twirling, twirling –

a dead leaf  

















  



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