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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