Saturday, July 17, 2010

to pause, to consider

the top of the year

the sun owns July,
the days are long and hot
and the air can forget to move,
almost as if it doesn’t want to go to the trouble,

the leaves are thirsty for the sun
and work hard to make the food they need
and we want and enjoy,
I’m jarred a bit by a few buckeye leaves who have given up their green
and are already decked out in light red as outliers of Fall,

this year the rains have been somewhere else for the last few weeks,
the streams drop low,

the plants hunger for hydration,
for the water we all need at our heart,

midday a few raindrops whisper that rain may come,
the Sun quickly returns and the air stills again,
late afternoon thunder marches toward us from the distance,
and finally the rain breaks on the forest,
dust hopes to be mud,
the rain fills the air, and then pauses,
as if the appetizers are over,
we don’t know if any courses are yet to be served,
through the night we are served by light rain showers
as if hors d’oeuvres at a party,
and no main course ever arrives,

in the morning the stream is slightly higher,
and the air sodden,
morning rolls over in the heavy mist,
it doesn’t break until the Sun lightens the clouds away enough
for blue and yellow to make their way and lighten our mood,

we’re at the top of the year like at the top of the mountain,
effort before and effort after,
for now it’s a pause and time to consider.

by Henry Walker
July 10, ’10

1 comment:

Ike Walker said...

I just got back from a 4 mile run, and the first stanza speaks to me.

I love the line "dust hopes to be mud".