Let August Be On Woodrat Mountain Rd
by Barbara A Meier
Let the dust of a gravel road
mask the reddest of red poison oak,
the Douglas fir, reaching for sun.
Let the yellow jacket suck
the juice of a rotting plum like a drunk
nursing his bottle. Let August be.
Let the chrysalis on the milkweed fall
beneath the blade of the county tractor,
the Monarch disappears. Let August be.
Let the ghost of my dogs, pull me up
the road, tangling their leashes, tongues lolling.
Let August be.
To the Bud can in the starthistle, to the buzz
of the junction box, to the beat of a heart.
Let August be.
Let it be as it comes, as it will always be,
life sliding down. Summer whining
in the cicadas, so let August be.
inspired by “Let Evening Come” by Jane Kenyan
Process notes: I discovered Jane Kenyan about 2 years ago. Poetry was at a hiatus in my life for the past 40 years about. I started to write again at 58. I have 40 years of poets to catch with. One of the magazines I submitted to recommended reading Jane Kenyan. I knew I had to try her style. I’d been playing around with August a lot and not really finishing anything. August to me was a cruel month. My Dad died in August, summer is dying in the madrone trees shedding, and poison oak turning red and yes time to report back to work. (teacher) The greens are tired and dusty. It’s hot. It’s dying.
It is what it is and I let it be on my walk up Woodrat Mountain Rd.
Barbara A Meier has spent the last four years living on the Southern Oregon Coast. She retired from teaching this summer and hopes to find time to travel and write. She has a Micro Chapbook coming out this summer from Ghost City Press. She has been published in The Poeming Pigeon, TD; LR Catching Fire Anthology and The Fourth River. https://basicallybarbmeier.wordpress.com/