image from flickr.com
Summer Enters Stage East
“The summer sun was not meant for boys like us--
we belonged to the rain.”--Benjamin Alire Saenz.
pale, ghostly wisps, turned slightly sideways,
smiling a faintly ironical smile,
yet partially a sneer,
as the edge of your bottom
lip curls up like a cur,
at this brilliant, dew-moistened summer morning,
as the tangerine forehead of the new sun
bursts scorching, like boiling Pomeranian spill,
thrusting itself confidently over the cold shoulders
of the foothills, bathing my back yard in gossamer
then a detached, sleepily indifferent smile,
because the moon shift is over
and your companion night has fled,
even though you lingered to watch
a wanderer’s smile,
as you pokey-Joe amble, shuffle and tease
with your tiny fading farewell.
If I should buy a shirt your color,
even as Saul’s rising was so searing, it made
the many colored roses in our garden an electric hue,
and the morning’s mandate was very clear--
it would be a Hawaiian shirt day--red, white, & black petals;
and put on a necktie of sky blue--
just thank the retirement gods that as I glance at my tie rack,
it conjures mirth, smiling as I choose none of them for attire.
where would they carry me?
The day promised to be so achingly bright & clear, I knew
I needed to snatch up my camera & head down the Orting
highway to that pasture where the 1935 Ford pick up
sat rusting--for while the light was right, I needed to snapimages of the patina blemishes & broken headlights.
Inspiration poem, Summer Song by William Carlos Williams
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub "Poetics"