||[Aug. 6th, 2017|09:02 pm]
Summer's decline is seen in the shortening days (these are days that are getting shorter, not days that have anything to do with the popular cooking fat.) This evening I got to see the nearly-full moon rise as I was watering the back yard. The moon is less orange than it has been lately, thanks to the diminishing quantity of smoke from the fire on the other side of the mountains. |
The evening air was delightfully mild, and a faint scent of jasmine drifted from the handful of blossoms recent waterings have induced. It was almost like May, until I came back indoors and felt the trapped heat. The heat won't be trapped all night, and I will soon not be trapped in summer anymore. Amazing how much better a cooling can make me feel.
by Yusef Komunyakaa
They left my hands like a printer's
Or thief's before a police blotter
& pulled me into early morning's
Terrestrial sweetness, so thick
The damp ground was consecrated
Where they fell among a garland of thorns.
Although I could smell old lime-covered
History, at ten I'd still hold out my hands
& berries fell into them. Eating from one
& filling a half gallon with the other,
I ate the mythology & dreamt
Of pies & cobbler, almost
Needful as forgiveness. My bird dog Spot
Eyed blue jays & thrashers. The mud frogs
In rich blackness, hid from daylight.
An hour later, beside City Limits Road
I balanced a gleaming can in each hand,
Limboed between worlds, repeating one dollar.
The big blue car made me sweat.
Wintertime crawled out of the windows.
When I leaned closer I saw the boy
& girl my age, in the wide back seat
Smirking, & it was then I remembered my fingers
Burning with thorns among berries too ripe to touch.