Morning Poem, August 29, 2015


The sun is brighter in late summer

After the humid haze of July is gone

The flowers no longer wilt

But raise their purple heads

As if the day were their own.


The miniature hordes of locusts and cicadas

Still sound

Unworried of the soon-coming frost

That will silence them

Their choruses rise and fade

In response to each other


The neighbor’s dog lolls in the shade of his juniper

And the light glide of cars moving over the road

Reminds of the coming season

And change in days

That all is passing.


But now the morning glories hold sway

Their vines, multiple and rushing

Are woven through the chain-link fence

As if engineered

Their foliage mounds and bunches

Like muscled shoulders

Their purple color is like music

Coming from no one knows where

And yet acting like it has been here all along

As if the very Earth would disappear without it.


Drink in the sun that warms neck and chest

And for this moment

Purple and green and blue and gold

This perfect day

Know eternity.

copyright 2015

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