The Season of Fireflies is Past

This is for Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Since my mother died in June, I have gone back to writing more. I restricted my posts this past year.  And now here I am trying to get back in the swing of things.  Poets United:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/08/poetry-pantry-365.html  I will also be posting this for Real Toads Tuesday Platform http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform_8.html and for dVerse Open Link Night this following Thursday.

The Season of Fireflies is Past
the shade from trees is getting longer –
the days are getting shorter –
nights are getting cooler.
The season of fireflies is past.
early summer dusk
black trees against gray skies –
it is so silent.
the sound of a train whistle
several miles away carries
faintly over the tops of trees –
it moves like a slow river and pools
in the black grass of my back yard.
I’ve seen one firefly so far.
It winked at eye level
and a few minutes later it winked higher up
and still a few minutes later it winked
up in the top of the old oak.
the train whistle awakens the insects –
The cicadas and crickets –
it awakens the tree frogs who begin their
treble belching – and the old bullfrog
in my dying garden sings
basso profundo – the cicadas
ratchet it up a little bit louder.
I can feel it in my soul and in my bones –
Summer is taking her shower and soon will
be in her jammies and sleeping.
autumn will awaken and begin his
royal progress throughout the land
trailing clear blue skies, deer, and golden leaves
in his wake.
The season of fireflies is past.

Real Toads: Flash 55

Today at Real Toads we have a prompt from Flash 55 Plus to write a poem in 55 words – our choice of subject or, the Optional Plus prompt using the artwork of Erte for inspiration.  Follow this link to learn more of this prolific Art Deco Artist:  https://www.wikiart.org/en/erte   this link to read poem submitted by the poets of Real Toads:  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/flash-55-plus.html

 

Autumn Song

“Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.” Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

I went to sleep in summer
and awakened in autumn.
at night the cicadas clickclackthrum
rising and falling.
it is still hot, lord knows
but this morning was cool –
the day smells of dried grasses
and early fallen leaves clustered around
the bottom of the oak tree.
Autumn is beginning to stir –
to awaken.

 

 

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