Monday Morning Musings:
“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
―Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“Of what is past, or passing, or to come.”
–W.B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”
A breeze drifts from blushing sky,
Robin sings reveille, a new day wakes
carrying time’s perfume,
a scent of days blended over and over
in a soft voice
the woman asks the day
and wonders where time has gone,
but it is still here—
she gazes through a window,
a young woman looks back
***
In these last days of August
as summer goes a-rambling,
and we go scrambling–
in this odd uneven time
of thunderstorms and brilliant sun
we see summer almost done
when temperatures fall,
as do a few leaves,
but it deceives
we’ll have heat rise again,
even as vultures soar
high above the shore
Delaware River, Red Bank Battlefield
and insects skitter
and crawl–
but that’s not all
Cicada-eating wasp
Great Horned Caterpillar at Red Bank Battlefield, NJ
we see as we walk
in parks and city streets,
hearing the beats
of different drums
people, creatures, machines strum
and hum, but come
see fountains glittering
with diamond droplets flying
and spirits sighing
as they dance to the sky
where sun-stippled,
and wind-rippled
they form clouds
that cross the far expanse
of blue, and dance
into the night
and daughters come with smiles
across the miles
to visit. We drink wine
on a beautiful day
wishing days like this would stay
More Bugs! Cicada comes a-calling
Wine Down Summer Wine Festival, Riverwinds, NJ
and winter never come.
When flowers and bugs will die
and Persephone in darkness sigh
for light and mother-love.
But in the now we celebrate–
never too late, to grab a plate
to dine and drink
to talk
to walk
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to give heart-felt wishes
to laughs and kisses
to be happy for all of this
And so,
on her 97th birthday I write:
“On this day,
this is what I wish for you–
the love in memories,
the love in now.”
And for us all
the moon hums a lullaby,
a wish for love and gentle goodbyes.
I went a bit overboard with photos, but my mom turned 97 this weekend. Since a few weeks ago, we thought she wouldn’t reach this event, it was extra-special. Older daughter came from Massachusetts, and we went to a wine festival, then visited her sister at her new part-time job at Blue Cork Winery. Then yesterday was my mom’s party. For once, the weather cooperated, too–what a beautiful weekend!
