august poem

August               

 

Into the spiral garden,

worlds of butterflies sweep my aura,

swoop and swarm, disperse, return, sensing

I’m one of them - flower lover, craver

of juicy sweet things…

 

Four monarchs dance, mate, flutter, play

above the ironweed, blue vervain,

higher, where climbing vines twist green

boasting brassy orange trumpets blowing the breeze,

tangling in cedar, nudging Elderberry Tree

 

whose deep magenta stems cling

to clusters of glistening

black burgundy berries

absorbing, transforming, reflecting heat,

slowly deepening, steeping in

august riches, summer’s blood wine.

 

Habaneros, cayenne, jalapenos,

from garden splendor and heaping baskets 

to spicy bunches on kitchen walls,

orange and red they burn to warm

the pending autumn, distant winter.

 

A mama sunflower hangs her heavy weary head,

withered wisps of petal curls surround her face,

shrunken shoulder leaves betray her strength.

Reverently she bows, swollen and patient,

offering to thirsty earth her seed tears.

 

Outside the window above the bench

a fat black spider weaves her web.

Spinneret throws glossy threads

she intersperses wisely:

an eighteen inch silken masterpiece:

intricate centerpiece 

of my garden-framed view. 

--diana tigerlily