Skip to main content

Poetry Sunday: August by Ed Blair

Late August here in Southeast Texas is something to be endured rather than enjoyed. We are in a series of days with triple-digit degree Fahrenheit weather and we can't look for much relief until the calendar leaf turns over. Rain would be most welcome but does not appear to be in the offing anytime soon. When we go outside, we head for the shade of one of those oak trees that we were smart enough to plant when we moved here many years ago. They tower over the yard now and provide protection from the blasting rays of the sun. But all the vegetation is suffering from our long dry spell. September is coming and let us hope it brings rain but, in the meantime, August burns us.

August

by Ed Blair

The August sun is pouring on the land,
His scorching rays, and vegetation stands
Beseeching to the skies for showers again
And being answered like the prayers of men.

Along the creeks the white rocks heat and glow,
As it some one had built great fires below,
And cattle stand in stagnant pools to fight
The pestering flies that trouble day and night.

In vain we look for those refreshing showers
That come so oft in Spring at call of flowers,
But clouds come to our view, then pass away,
And leave us in despair at close of day.

Labels:

Comments

  1. David M. Gascoigne,August 20, 2023 at 6:05 AM

    “But clouds come to our view, and pass away, And leave us in despair at close of day.” This pretty much says it all as great swaths of northern Canada burn to the ground, and towns and cities are threatened with total destruction.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersAugust 20, 2023 at 8:55 AM

      I think much of the continent now is in need of rain and let us hope that it comes soon before the wildfires, as you say, bring "total destruction." Until then, we despair.

      Delete
  2. HarveeAugust 20, 2023 at 7:03 AM

    Nice idea to have a Poetry Sunday post. The weather has eased a bit and we have cooler temps, bearable and rather nice, these past few days. I hope it lasts. Stay cool!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersAugust 20, 2023 at 8:59 AM

      The only way to stay cool these days is to remain indoors under the air conditioners. Those cooler, bearable temps haven't reach us yet.

      Delete
  3. Rajani RehanaAugust 20, 2023 at 11:52 AM

    Please read my post

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...
19 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
6 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...
24 comments
Read more