Sep 2011
A great expanse of northern sky;
Cirrus clouds,
faux marble blue and white.
Late afternoon’s golden sun;
red autumn leaves,
fire on fire it seems to me.
Tall, silent, Mast Pine forests
haunted by Owls,
ancient Indian spirits
and dreams of sailing ships
on wild Gulf Stream rides
across the sea.
Waist high fields of Ragweed and Clover
rippling with the wind.
Clear, crisp days
geese in flight.
Iridescent dragonflies zigzagging overhead
like jet-fighters
hunting mosquitoes.
Noisy crows squawking the news,
people in the back forty.
A deep blue, Lapis sea
sparkling in the breeze
just beginning to chill.
Ohh…what a feeling;
these late summer
just a blush of autumn
cool New England days.
Cirrus clouds,
faux marble blue and white.
Late afternoon’s golden sun;
red autumn leaves,
fire on fire it seems to me.
Tall, silent, Mast Pine forests
haunted by Owls,
ancient Indian spirits
and dreams of sailing ships
on wild Gulf Stream rides
across the sea.
Waist high fields of Ragweed and Clover
rippling with the wind.
Clear, crisp days
geese in flight.
Iridescent dragonflies zigzagging overhead
like jet-fighters
hunting mosquitoes.
Noisy crows squawking the news,
people in the back forty.
A deep blue, Lapis sea
sparkling in the breeze
just beginning to chill.
Ohh…what a feeling;
these late summer
just a blush of autumn
cool New England days.
Mackworth island is right off the coast of Portland Maine and it is a park. Access is by a long causeway. When I was younger I used to bicycle out there as often as I could and I consider it one of my spiritual homes. I haunted that place and came to know it like the back of my hand.- From Poetry Jam (on Toast)
