Midday weirdly
foisting
           Gay
balloons of water out
            
tomorrow's tears wave
In brightly colored sheets
Of cotton snowfall

August

Last year

Before the murky waters came
Life was different
Maw-Maw’s red-bricked house sat at the back of our dead-end road
The ever-welcoming glass door with the
Faulty hitch opened up to a two-step stair
Leading down into a living room
Encompassed with the smell of
Cajun cooking
And basked in the essence
Of Family

After the murky waters came
Life looked different
I remember the water whirl pooling into the tops of my
rain boots
As I trudged next door to my aunt’s water-lined house
To comfort Maw-Maw, who lost everything
Her tears falling into the stench-infested puddles at her feet
And jumping right back up in a splash as if they too
Were hurrying to find shelter

The heat of the sun held the
Stench of the monster
That had us all in its grip
Patches of brown grass mocked us
Where the water had decided to leave early
And accumulate somewhere else

Piles of our lives lined the driveways
Mildew fogged up the windows of
Miscellaneous cars and trucks
Which still held secrets that the murky waters left inside
What could be salvaged
What remnants were left
From before
The murky waters came

Floors were ripped up
Walls gutted out
Bricks broke easily under the weight
Of demolition
Our hearts broke easily under the weight
Of the water

I once watched a documentary about horror
Which was described as something that simply should not be
but somehow
is
Horror was the bulging, black molded bar in my kitchen
The scattered furniture in my living room
The stench that took over my senses at the opening of a door to go inside or outside; fresh air forgotten
The fact that my bedroom looked normal in spite of the soggy carpet and the
Drooping painting hanging on my wall,
Clothes strewn across my bed in an effort
To survive

After the murky waters left
Life was different
Life became “before the flood” and “after the flood”
“Hey, how are you,” became “have you heard from FEMA?”
“What are you up to” became “are y’all raising or demolishing?”
Three mountains of bricks down my road became
Trailers on pedestals
The trash, our former possessions, was eventually gone
New replaced the old

Now
life is life
We are thankful for what we have
We still sit on that wooden swing in the shade of the afternoon
And we reminisce of a time before the murky waters came
All the while appreciating the
Now

And we still laugh together
We still cry together
Up in that storm-safe trailer
At the back of our dead-end road
Gumbo is cooking on the stove
And we’re basking warmly in the essence
Of Family

ever since that august evening,
when our paths crossed,
everything in my old life changed,

my mornings became happy again,
my days grew bright,
no longer sleeping the days away without dreams.

learning to write words of love to you,
i spend my days through the seasons,
writing love songs for a dream,

throughout the seasons,
the cold of winter, words to warm your heart,
the scent of flowers and birds singing in the spring, words to make you smile,
the heat of summer, words to make you feel alive looking at the night sky,
the colorful leaves of autumn, words to help harvest your dreams.

east to west the sun travels,
knowing you are dreaming under the stars half a world away.

i fall asleep and dream,
of you and i together,
under a moonlit sky gazing in the soft moonlight,
letting us feel alive.

August burned slow
The sun clung to every branch, every petal
To every moment left in this old life
I couldn't hold on to each ray
Each moment, each day

None of the moments I stood in would stay
They lived in a leaving town
And all the little homes had locked up their doors

These moments were fleeting
And held grace in their hands
They tried to make her mine
But she had places to be that weren't me

The sun started setting
And the sky peeled back my pieces
Like the skin of something sweet  
Broken memories
Falling like ash around my feet

August had burned up
And so did everything after

Where the Earth has etched out the Avon gorge,
I stand and look, from the edge of the downs,
see from the pale blues, where sky and land merge,
to a valley of green and ochre browns.
Under the midday sun, in silent awe,
I stand and look into the glowing distance.
Light dances, like I've never seen before,
the landscape shimmering with brilliance.
It humbles me, how I have happened upon
this panoramic and sublime expanse,
how it will stay with me, once I have gone,
how what I will remember is the dance.
Then I realise, the world, it sings a song.
That all I want to do, is sing along.

The sun and the moon; two halves of one,
perfection and ruin, both towards and away you run.
The light and the dark; a balance to complete,
spotless save for a mark, not every goodbye is sweet.

They say you can't **** the future,
it's the future that ***** you.
Not every wound needs a suture,
some things are destined to bleed through.
I'll reveal every reason, a list to only create pain,
it's the end of the season so let's feel the August rain.

The ground and the sky together they create a world,
laughing while you cry, emotions always seem swirled.
The bright and the black; a balance to complete,
a code you can't crack, a win that feels of defeat.

They say you should never waste a day,
because there just might not be a tomorrow.
Not every instinct can be held at bay,
some lives are destined to bathe in sorrow.
I'll treasure every thing about her, she's the one to keep me sane,
but it's the end of the summer so let's enjoy the August rain.

The heat and the cold, they so beautifully compliment,
the young and the old, the strength of detriment.
The colours and the grey, they exist altogether,
but nothing gold can stay and nothing good lasts forever.

Nothing is perfect in this world,
but there's always a balance of symmetry,
the only thing Holy is my girl,
and a prayer was answered when she chose me.
So let's usher the cold harsh breeze in,
and lets feel the heat slowly drain,
'cause it's the end of the season,
so keep me warm in the August rain.

Everything tastes like whiskey,
that Tennessee sour mash,
80 proof,
barrel-aged,
leather seats,
and cherried cigarettes underneath
the wet August sky.

You're playing something Brand New,
or something about promises,
and jetpacks,
but all I can hear
is the creak of those
old wooden rocking chairs
where you kissed my forehead
and allowed me to be ****** up.

It was the first time I'd had the courage to cry
and drink wine
straight from the bottle,
no glass,
and it hurt
more than trying to put out a match
with wet fingers,
and missing.

And it's nights like those
that make me think
how your shoelaces
can't stay tied
when we're dancing,
and how the switch to
your ******* bathroom light
sits behind the door,
and ****** me off
at 2:30 in the morning
when I'm more liquor
than woman.

But you still wake up
next to me
in the morning,
and you still want to
touch my cheeks
and kiss my *******
like you're going to lose me
even though my intials
are etched on the tree
outside your bedroom
window
and my shoes
are by the door.

When Summer Ends

When summer ends,
The air is strange, the mood estranged,
Winds begin, heat descends,
One wends one’s way
Across a browning lawn
To go back to the city, town.

Winter coming.
Urban living, job or studies,
Plain old washing dishes humming.
Kids in school again.
It could be you relax again.

When summer ends,
Visits, guests and nature over.
Leisure, in so many ways,
But as in everything, the flip side too.

Summer, fall and winter blends
Into one year
Again
As in
Its antecedents.
Life goes on.

When Summer Ends 8.23.2017
Circling Round Nature II:
Arlene Corwin