River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins Intemperate August staggers in liquored air of wavery heat and layered sighs
Leaves relinquish their rush toward this “ripe on time” Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach now bow to ponder their plunder while petunias, those bold delinquents! bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling were some myth the antique roses had made up
Bud, bloom, revive! See the generation of the bee! Bud, bloom, survive— to do it all again for the single sake... of treasuring beginning in the end...
Her bicycle, my geranium have found eternity together on the sun spattered patio
She— opens the screen door as I— climb the morning stairs She— squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles who has not brushed her hair in a late August moment of not caring
And I know it will all happen anyway no matter what I do....
...And it has happened-- my daughters grown and gone... the wonderful home along the river, torn down for the building of a levee. I'm glad I wrote this-- like a bookmark among so many memories.