Forever August
We hate to see August drain away
Like the grains of gold
Fleeing from a dying miner’s hand
From an old movie.
We want to remember the
Lush, emerald-green of the vegetation
Which surrounds us.
Like a sweet-smelling cocoon.
My nose picks up the fragrance
Of a barbeque pit’s waning odor
The scent of watermelon
The mayonnaise of a devoured
Potato salad
The sun sets earlier and earlier
Purple clouds surround him
Covering him over
As he retires to the west.
Deep blue evenings
Thick as the Pacific Ocean’s
Marianas Trench
Where fireflies bobble and float around
With their glowing tails
To guide them in their mating dance.
A dark-haired woman reaches
Out her bare arms
To embrace us.
She wears a sheer, thin summer dress
Billowing around her.
A picnic table behind her,
Standing before a chain link fence
In Abington Township’s Alverthorpe Park.
A little dark-haired girl
Dressed like her mother
Holds onto the table.
August becomes that scene
If we embrace her,
We still hold fast to August within us,
Even when it’s December.
Linda Barrett was born with a pen in her hand. She writes for hours and hours every day. Adelaide Magazine has printed her works for many years. She lives in the Philadelphia suburbs with her elderly mother.
