One Clear Hour
I wish that one clear hour could last a year
when something good happens it would last forever
that people would embrace humanity and love
rather than power and greed
that hope would triumph and democracy flourish.
I must take each clear hour when I find it
wrap my arms around it and believe, yes believe
that we can go forward stronger than ever as,
alas, we reclaim hope in that one clear hour.
This is written for Sumana's prompt "Overcoming" at What's Going On?
Toward the End of August
Toward the end of August I am on the cusp of both summer and fall
looking back with sadness at the passing of my favorite season
and ahead knowing that the green will be leaving, that the rich color
of autumn will appear, but then will arrive the darkest season of all.
Toward the end of August I always wonder how many more summers
I will know, I celebrate my birthday, but try to forget the number
of years I have lived, and tell myself I am only as old as I feel,
and celebrate the beauty that still is, the yellows, pinks, greens.
Toward the end of August I savor the fresh produce, tomatoes,
sweet corn, peppers, zucchini, melons, eggplant, and now
the new apples begin to appear, and I know that this bounty
will not last forever, but I revel in the harvests of today.
Toward the end of August I know that my tan will soon fade,
I will have to put away my shorts, T-shirts, and sandals,
and out will come jeans, sweatshirts, and boots, and I will
have to bring out warm jackets I had so gladly put away.
Toward the end of August I am on the cusp of both summer and fall
looking back with sadness at the passing of my favorite season
and ahead knowing that the green will be leaving, that the rich color
of autumn will appear, but then will arrive the darkest season of all.
Written for my prompt "August" at What's Going On?
