FOR AUGUST

I know for most in the Northern Hemisphere the word, August, is synonymous with sultry and hot.  But in the northern Rockies, August is the one month when we may need a.c. and is the only month I've not seen snow fall. It is the time when the fields are lush, the skies are blue and the dark cold of winter seems far away.  I wrote this poem long ago, but it still is true.

FOR AUGUST

Before we reach December

When the ground is heaped with snow,

Before the wind blows daily

And it’s ten degrees below,

I want to capture August

In the middle of a dawn;

Press it fast between two pages,

Now, before the charm is gone.

Like a giant cardboard backdrop

Stand the mountains in the east.

Cattle cast long-legged shadows

As they nibble at a feast.

On the wide and churning river

Deep waves sparkle ridge on ridge.

One can almost hear Vivaldi

As they roll beneath the bridge.

Fields of wheat, lime colored,

Sway in rhythm, hand in hand.

All the birds sing in the choir.

Summer breeze plays in the band.

A spider shakes the dew drops

From her tiny trampoline.

Meadows, trees and cattails

And the grass and leaves glow green.

When I’m thawing by a fire,

When my toes are frozen numb,

I’ll recall this August morning;

Taste the air and feel the sun.

Spider web photo borrowed from Public Domain Images


And that makes Blog Post number 300!