Tuesday, August 10, 2021

In the manner of poet Eliot, I do compose with pen in hand!

      




  The Interment of This Certain Summer


August remains the cruelest month!!

Its abundance of summer fruits are there

Merely to tempt us into thinking

That more lay waiting in repose...

The secrets of burnished sunsets

And sea-spray make us joyful;

Fine-tuning a deep longing to

Toss the dewdrops of sun-rays

Into every magical angle of

Our own little world...



  Yes, August kept us warm, it did...

And at times Sirius covered us

With lovely, molten blankets;

Wraps that Canis Majoris

Deftly wove,

 Through true practice and  

Chastened patience...

 

All the same, I know

 Autumn will soon expose its

  Imminent arrival, (time and again):

A prickly streak of ill will

Rambling over the horizon

Just as we least expect it;

Its later debut spins

Recollections of wicked winds

That threaten to extinguish 

The last vestige of tender

Sun-lit tributes.


Dampened by a late summer rain,

Plum-colored mums glisten under the pergola;

The bright August sunlight hurts my eyes.



Still, its glare

Casts a more exquisite shadow

Than that of snow-squalls...

And, for that,

I apologize for cursing

All that it really has to offer...


poem written by L.P.-G.

c. 2021



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