But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands
gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger
on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.
You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look
of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite
every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August,
you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love,
though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam
that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys
until you realize foam's twin is blood.
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
I was seventy-seven, come August,
I shall shortly be losing my bloom;
I've experienced zephyr and raw gust
And (symbolical) flood and simoom.
When you come to this time of abatement,
To this passing from Summer to Fall,
It is manners to issue a statement
As to what you got out of it all.
A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter--winged, horned, and spined -
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While 'mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .
Redbird at midnight
Where did the orange sun go
on Emerald Lane?
Stars twinkle summer
butterfly wings so weary
Lights out cool fireflies.
Resting on jade grass
do the crickets miss their song
in mellow moonlight?
Flowers waltz in pearls
tangerine days of summer
when noon redbird sings
cool burst of sunshine
from the fridge of hot august
its dream turned to dust
flowers are flaunting
crisp tomorrows coming soon
August is fading
lushest blooms kiss a fierce sun
sudden surprise chills
standoff of seasons
spicy fragrance thrills both sides
butterfly bliss hides
skies still berry blue
melancholy wake up call
Pink, gold and purple
at the verge of baby blue
Soft, twilight birdsong
in the glow of green fireflies
Weary day gives way
to cool night's diamonds and pearls
and pervading scents
Lush evening, dripping colors
through the dim hallway
to bright blaze of better days
and all are feeling warmth's touch
in sweet summer's glaze
sultry, rich August
when the roses are teeming