July 5th
Honeysuckle days lead to
Childhood’s joyful firefly nights:
Nectar for the droning bees;
Mate-seekers’ bright flashing lights.
Picnic table softly lit by
Paper lanterns hung in trees.
Citronella candles vie with roses
For who will scent the breeze.
The odor of dust-veiled rain
First tickles, then fills our noses.
Fat raindrops begin to fall,
As from a dozen hoses.
Picnic-remains in hand, we
Dash inside, hear daughter’s call:
“Watch your step! The bricks are slick.”
Grandson slips and drops his ball.
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls –
A wet end for our picnic.
Then – like that! – the storm has passed.
Over, done and gone – so quick!
Soggy lanterns’ paper skins –
Wet – were never meant to last:
Droopy skins show naked lights –
Sad, bedraggled, so downcast.
We bid farewell to Summer’s
Child, full of earthly delights –
Born a honeysuckle day; died,
One of those bright firefly nights.
Honeysuckle days lead to
Childhood’s joyful firefly nights:
Nectar for the droning bees;
Mate-seekers’ bright flashing lights.
Picnic table softly lit by
Paper lanterns hung in trees.
Citronella candles vie with roses
For who will scent the breeze.
The odor of dust-veiled rain
First tickles, then fills our noses.
Fat raindrops begin to fall,
As from a dozen hoses.
Picnic-remains in hand, we
Dash inside, hear daughter’s call:
“Watch your step! The bricks are slick.”
Grandson slips and drops his ball.
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls –
A wet end for our picnic.
Then – like that! – the storm has passed.
Over, done and gone – so quick!
Soggy lanterns’ paper skins –
Wet – were never meant to last:
Droopy skins show naked lights –
Sad, bedraggled, so downcast.
We bid farewell to Summer’s
Child, full of earthly delights –
Born a honeysuckle day; died,
One of those bright firefly nights.
(c) 2009 Image and poem, Martha McLemore
19 comments:
This is absolutely gorgeous. Makes me miss the seasons rush toward fall with nary a party. I have lost my zest for celebration. Still it's nice to read about it and remember.
Oh my, what beautiful imagery. One night before I fell asleep I had a vision of a summer path that I was following to the top of a hill. I heard a voice say, 'The color of Heaven is green'.
this is very beautiful....thank you so much for sharing ....it evokes something wonderfully mysterious that is the summer's night.
blessings...
Lovely, what a good way to redeem your washed out evening! I love those Maxfield Parrish lanterns.
Hey, someone else who is concentrating on scansion. Good on yer, Crow. "First tickles..." good, "Born a honeysuckle day" better. Now something about jig-saws or about misplacing your glasses, something that transforms the mundane. Parenthetically (as we versifiers are wont to say) I've been agonising over something for two weeks now and, once I've done a necessary post about lavatories, I shall, following your example, be emboldened to release it. In the end it becomes a tail-gating competition.
Lovely! :-)
Utah: from reading your blog, I know you've been through quite a bit this summer. It's understandable why you aren't up for celebrating. Hope things improve in your corner of the world.
Glad you enjoyed the poem, and that you visited.
:)
Susan: what a neat dream-vision to have. All the shades of green are part of what I like about summer. And to think of how they all change in the fall.
:)
Linda: I was prompted by all the fireflies in my yard this year. Last summer there were so few, and I missed seeing them. This year, they are everywhere - almost magical.
:)
Lucy: thank you for the mention of Maxfield Parrish. I was trying to remember his name, but couldn't, in reference to a sunset a few weeks ago after an unseasonably cool afternoon. Sky looked just like one of his paintings.
I was fortunate the lanterns turned out as well as they did. My camera is cont one of the better ones, but it did a fair job this time.
:)
BB: I learn so much from both your posts and your comments at others' posts. Didn't know what scansion is until a moment ago when your use of the word made me reach for the Google button.
I liked this poem better when it was blank verse. It flowed better, I think. Although each verse is parsed out into seven syllables, it doesn't roll smoothly when I read it. I think I was focused too much on the count than on how it read. Then there was the matter of rhyming, and that pattern of using the thrid line in the previous verse for the rhymed lines in the next verse.
I think I've pulled a Donovan and tried to create a poem too complicated for my beginner's skills.
Now, on to yours! What is it about, or will we all find out together?
:)
Michelle: Thank you!
:)
Love this. I was right there.
Lisa:
Thank you. This has been an unusually cool and wet July here in south-central Pennsylvania this year, lots of quick storms, leaving behind cool breezes. Loving it.
:)
A very evocative poem. A beautiful way to appreciate the season. I really love the deep blue sky just visible between the trees in the photo...
:-)
Honeysuckle days and firefly nights. Either could be the title of a book of memoirs. Together they evoke a magical existence.
E:
These three things -- honeysuckle, fireflies and quick storms -- are among those I think of when dreaming of summer while deep in winter.
I was happy the way this photo turned out. Thank you; glad you enjoy it.
:)
Joe/Plutarch:
It was the pairing of those ideas that resulted in this poem, although my first verion was in free verse.
They speak of some of the things most magical about early summer for me. Thank you.
:)
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