Poetry Sunday: Late August by Margaret Atwood

I went searching for a poem for late August and there it was! Margaret Atwood had provided the perfect words to describe the season. 

Late August

by Margaret Atwood

Late August—
This is the plum season, the nights
blue and distended, the moon
hazed, this is the season of peaches

with their lush lobed bulbs
that glow in the dusk, apples
that drop and rot
sweetly, their brown skins veined as glands

No more the shrill voices
that cried Need Need
from the cold pond, bladed
and urgent as new grass

Now it is the crickets
that say Ripe Ripe
slurred in the darkness, while the plums

dripping on the lawn outside
our window, burst
with a sound like thick syrup
muffled and slow

The air is still
warm, flesh moves over
flesh, there is no

hurry

    Comments

    1. It is very easy for me to forget that Margaret Atwood is a prolific and accomplished poet in addition to being a novelist of the highest order. This example of her work is fabulous. Did you also know that she is a dedicated birder?

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      Replies
      1. I did actually and I'm sure that enhances her observations of and appreciation of Nature as expressed in this poem and many others.

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    2. One can never ever go wrong with Margaret Atwood. I love her work.

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    3. Another reason to like Margaret Atwood even more. Plums bursting with a sound like thick syrup....

      ReplyDelete
      Replies
      1. It's very graphic, isn't it? And having a plum tree, I know exactly what she means.

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    4. I love this! And how cool that you find such perfect poems for every time and season. :D

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      Replies
      1. How cool that there seems to be a poem for every situation!

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