“Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.
No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Antiquest felt at Noon
When August burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify.
Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now.”
Emily Dickinson usually leaves me wondering. But even the opacity of her words speak to my heart, this late August morn. August…when I expect to be sweltering and enduring, overwhelmed with bounty from the garden. Instead, I am wrapping up the loaf of crusty bread and putting it in the freezer to wait for the tomatoes that remain green on the vine…
…and I put layers on in the morning and feel the emptiness of the pasture, over to the east, while I work in my studio or read on the porch. Our last sweet goat died last month after a long and rich seventeen years with us, and the neighbor’s sheep have gone home so that the pasture can renew itself…
Instead of summer rhythms, I find the autumnal ones are so early weaving their way into my days as I start a pot of rice cooking in the morning or take a walk in the not-too-hot afternoon and notice the crickets more than the cicadas….
…already savoring the golden, easy, warmth that is becoming somewhat elusive, as I spend more time with paper and plans than water and flowers…
No doubt all will be August-like a few turnings of the earth from now, nor do I wish for it to be different than it is. The stillness, the cloud-covered sky and those birds far from me are writing for me today.
And whether I will find myself sipping some chilled rosy wine on the little terrace as the sun dips this evening, or a warming cup of tea in the kitchen while the rain falls…it is all good. My deario will be with me, perhaps a son will wander by and we will break out a deck of cards.
For now, tho’, I will put the now-done rice in the ‘fridge and get to all of my work that awaits.
Sending you these late-August birds of thoughts and pictures as they flutter by, with fondness…xo