Let me tell you something,
It’s this coolness of the last nights of August.
Amidst late hopeful cricket calls
Stars perfecting their brilliant glow,
We used to listen to the celestial music,
Dangling feet off the metal bars
at the edge of cement town. Recap summer and plan
one last camp out, and a bicycle trip, and a swim…
Whisper of those who had a new boyfriend and a new piercing
And those who scored both, and were fearless at spin the bottle.
I would tell you all my secret dreams
And hide my shameful feet cracked from work in the mud fields.
There was always something to be hidden,
In that game of perfection, as we searched out
without a known direction like a vine
randomly twisting to the direction of the sun,
girls talking of forbidden fruit, and boys of the low hanging one…
There was still excitement of the class getting back together
New faces, familiar faces, and endless possibilities
Where each adventure was to outlive eternity.
Now it is the transformation that captivates us.
The fall shedding of the leaves, the seeing what was there
all along hidden under the brush
revealed only in the cool clarity to come.
The bare nests exposed, glued then broken
or broken then glued, or abandoned, but still,
holding their beauty and mystery.
Now there is knowing that vines which had spread out of control
Will still fertilize, and the plucking
of melons and cucumbers, and squash comes easy,
For it is all about life giving now,
This transformation that mashes us
Mashes us up together, more alike than different.
Pumpkin into a pumpkin bread,
apples into an apple sauce,
plums into plum jam,
and peaches into a cobbler,
and then some more mashed potatoes.
Now with the fall cool we embrace joy of ripeness
and fullness, voluptuous women and plump baby arms, satisfaction
as the grinding of the daily grind just the same
Laying on the fresh stacked hay with an understanding smile at
those young impatient wilted ephemeral spring dreams
Colorful, short lived, and forever in memories
Now we stuff ourselves with some hearty goodness.