Summer Days

by H. Ní Aódagaín                                                        
 
Summer days link together like a bracelet

each bead a beauty,

as sun rises soft against the mountains

birds knock on wood to make home

the old dog, dear companion, stretches and yawns,

deciding to, yet once more, live this new day

at our side.

The blazing, brutal heat of July, the hottest

on record in this southern Oregon town,

has abated

and for the first time in too long,

evening alights softly

on our shoulders.

A fresh breeze, cool and casual,

like the perfect summer shawl

gently strokes our open arms

grateful and giddy

we welcome her

this rare visitor into our midst.

Tomorrow may bring the return

of a sun so scalding,

we fear the end of the world

apocalyptic prophecies recited,

half in jest,

half in wonderment

the rivers’ waters, not enough

to keep the earth,  and all its inhabitants

sated and safe from the raging fire.

But, today, the air

murmurs a sweet song,

the grapes grow plump,

golden green goblets

of nectar on my tongue

the first leaves of autumn

float silently down

to lie upon the dying grass

and I bow to the magnificent mystery of it all.

                                                       

H. Ní Aódagaín

August 2014