Wednesday, July 31, 2013

365 Poems: The Anti-July

Day 212

Actual photograph of July clouds.

Saw a poetry prompt today, about August, memories of August, something like that. But it's going to take me awhile to get over this July -- cloudy, cool, rainy, the anti-July. Jackets and jeans and campfires, October kind of behavior. Working on my head that my favorite month has let me down, and, just like in Westeros, 'winter is coming.'  Too few days of hot-and-humid, sunny and sunnier, everyone complaining except me about a heat wave. Ah, well. Let's look ahead:


When my eyes are weeds,
And my lips are petals, spinning
Down the wind that has beginning
Where the crumpled beeches start
In a fringe of salty reeds;
When my arms are elder-bushes,
And the rangy lilac pushes
Upward, upward through my heart;

Summer, do your worst!
Light your tinsel moon, and call on
Your performing stars to fall on
Headlong through your paper sky;
Nevermore shall I be cursed
By a flushed and amorous slattern,
With her dusty laces' pattern
Trailing, as she straggles by. 

No comments:

Post a Comment