As we move into August, the remembrances of past July evenings and the faint echoes of mid-summer storms are fresh in our mind. This poignant poem by WATL member, Mary Fox, appeals to all of the senses.

Sometimes on a summer’s

eve, you can hear the thunder’s

rumble creeping in, but you still gaze

at a star-studded sky hung with a sliver

of white-pie moon.

Under that canopy, you inhale

deeply the damp, worm-scented,

air. Rain will come;

you might feel

it in the stillness or in the warm

dampness of a clinging

shirt. You might even see

it in distant flashes backlighting

the yard, but there, by the deck,

in the glow

spilling from the kitchen

window, the leaves are green

and the flowers poise

for sleep, serene and lovely.

Summer’s Eve; © 2014 by Mary Fox

Photo of Lake of the Clouds, Ontonagon, MI; ©2013 by Rosalie Sanara Petrouske

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