September
Spring fever
has been cooled by September.
The ecstasy of rosebuds
stirs in my memory,
their melody out of touch
with the rhythm
of reality.Outside myself, wild geese
vee through changing weather.
Their instincts land them safely.The world is tidal now.
Summer’s beach is limed
with empty shells.
A wave comes in,
perhaps from Portugal,
I ride its crest
through the hint of frost.. . . .
Softer Melodies
Noon sun is bright and bold
in mad pursuit of flowers
blooming. Its heat, a marvel
to behold, but only when shaded
behind a brim, or laced through etchings
of a parasol.For noonday sun will often burn
and the blistering has been known
to scar. Squinting through its glare
makes lines that last a lifetime.But as the day draws to a close
and shadows play in waning rays,
a gentler light soothes the weary soul.
It is the quiet songs, forever warm,
that linger when the sun is gone.
