the last day of august

i have just let tolstoy out of his paddock, he is free to roam where ever he chooses on the farm, i am nervous. i have for the very first time this summer put on a strapless dress and i am okay about it, even though my arms are redicously large i still manage to feel feminine. i have filled a glass with ice, ginger ale and orange juice and pulled a new book from my shelves to read : the grapes of wrath" by steinbeck. Moments before all this i walked to the pond to check on the ducks and found five huge turkey vultures resting, i clapped my hands and they flew away both magnificent and frightening all at once. the birds they have not stopped singing and someone must have told the cardinals of my love for red for i have counted at least a dozen. I once did a design for a flower show of a flock of red cardinals flying over head as my way of saying this end of the world as we know it, i hope this not the case today. i have wanted september to come, yet i think it more the coolness of the fall that i am waiting for. but for today i will remain in the moment and let the moisture of the humid air rest on my bare arms as i turn the page...

bright star

it is as if the rain knew tears would come
the drops pour unto the pastures as if they were desperate to hide
to seep beneath it all
my heart i fear will remain permantely pinched
no doubt that something from my conscious mind will undo it
but only for a while
my breath now cut off sends the air to my head
that is now pounding along side my undone heart
i lay myself under a cover made of feathers
and wish my sleep heavy.

n

*what i felt after bright star

let go

holding on. that is what i do.
i hold on to my loft because, well i do not know why
i hold on to my book because i do not want it to end
i hold on to king henry the eighth
i hold on to a handkerchief
i hold on to a broken shoe
i hold on and i know longer want too
but i do

or

today you held my hand on several occasions you knew
i need you to know

cheese cloth

i feel

a nap

perhaps it was the smell of the pine needles that lifted my spirits high. reading my book each page was so heavy in thought but
then in wolfboro the best nap i have ever had took place. i dreamt of my horse tolstoy, dreamt
of love, most of all i slept and when i woke the mix of pine needles and you
there awakened every thing that had been sleeping.