Poem of the Moment

Poem of the Moment

 

Play the poem copy

August

Does anybody else feel sadness now,
when the trees are at their fullest, the midpoint
of August has already passed and the circulars
advertising pencils and notebooks
have begun to drop
like leaves, prematurely
and way too colourful?

Even while the purpose of sweaters
is hardly remembered; when toes, knowing
nothing about the insides of
shoes, still spring about,
decorated by the sun patterns
of sandals, they spread like vines
wherever they go.

Landing here as if from another
planet, all you can see is the peak
harvest: cornfields and plums,
peaches rolling out of baskets.
The rich land rivering
its own juice. And everything,
everything on offer. Why then sadness?

All you can hear are the wires whining
in the sun, the bass heart of sound
through a car’s belly. Song.
The pulse of green
so complete
not another beat
of life could enter.

~ Ronna Bloom, from her book Personal Effects (Pedlar Press, 2000)
(Click here to read more about Ronna, and here to check out her “bathrobe series” where she reads poems and offers writing prompts in her bathrobe. That’s where I found this beauty.)

 

 

 

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