Tag Archives: cycles

The symmetry of summer

16 Jul

summer flower for poem

Dirt cracking open in a spray of flowers

Seamless blue sky parting for a passing cloud

Lace petals falling from swollen trees, seeds

settling between blades of grass and weeds

A dog patiently watching a cat

A hen following a rooster across an empty street

The sound of wind opening and closing

 

The scent of rain teasing parched distance

Secrets shared between children

The arrogance of a train shattering silence

 

Women drinking sweet tea in the heat of day

Men working till dusk in barns

A murder of crow darkening sunrise, a blanket of

fireflies punctuating night

Front porches and screen doors

Embroidered curtains flowing from open windows

Homemade cookies

Cold milk

Hot dogs and good neighbors

Hope boiling below the surface like hot tar on a roof

 

Prayers and good intentions

Strong-willed men

Resilient women

Casseroles and hymnals

Heat lightening, and

stolen kisses

The slow steady beat of summer altering patterns and

habits of earth’s most predictable beasts

©bsweet-scheidt2016

Sign of the Times

8 Aug

Early morning sky reveals the secrets day holds; but like many of us, the sky speaks in riddles.  Its indigo stained humidity, when seen through the lenses of a window shares the appearance of a winter storm.  It isn’t until you open the door that you see for yourself the truth of such illusion.

By 3 o’clock it will be 102 degrees and all possibility for rain, let alone a nor’easter, will disappear in heat’s grasp.  Calm will have descended; creatures will seek shelter from sweltering temperatures peering only briefly at the reality outside their hiding place.

Men will wipe their brows, push back damp hats, lean against the forgiveness of shade-bearing trees.

Women will fan red faces with the hems of work aprons as they sip yet another cool glass of iced tea.  Children on summer vacation will lean even more intently into the electronic escapes and connections they share.  Babies will chafe, cry, fitfully sleep.

The spring promise of green grasses and fruit trees bent toward the earth in bounty has been broken.  Cats, pregnant only a few months ago have grown scrawny.  Their fur is dusty and lack-luster as they bury themselves in dark corners of burnt leaves.  True to her word, summer burns.

The sky is a clock ticking subtle beats in homage to the cycles of time.  Seasons are mere minutes; tomorrow it will be winter.  Next week, spring.

The early morning sky is a predictor of gifts and challenges. It is a reminder to remember all of the things easily forgotten. Live fully; open the door.  See for yourself the truth hiding inside illusion.

morning sky