Sunflowers explode into bloom as summer wanes
At Summer’s End
Last Saturday
summer evening
soft light and
softer air:
perfect
party.
Two friends
celebrating
one hundred twenty
years
more than half
together
a hundred guests.
The cucumbers keep coming!
Potluck, of course
I brought what was on hand:
(still!)
dressed (yogurt, garlic, lemon juice, dill)
Ripening tomatoes on the vine – another mark of summer coming to an end.
crowded onto the buffet
near a tent
a band played.
Everyone I knew
populated tables, chairs;
perched on stones, walls
The perfect backdrop for a summer party: tent, buffet table, lawn.
settled
on the grass
in clusters
threes and fours
talking
face-to-face:
Conversation.
A woman back from LA,
“The sirens!”
“And the lights –
it’s never dark!”
I know.
If I have to leave
I bring earplugs, eye-shades.
“I like the sounds of night.”
We agreed.
A giant ball of light.
“The moon!”
The evening faded
Someone lit a fire in the grass
a giant ball of light rose
in my throat,
“The moon!”
Later,
My headlights tunneled
the blue velvet.
In the dark house
an owl called,
and coyotes answered.
Deborah Lee Luskin waxes poetic in Summer’s End.
Author, blogger, educator and editor Deborah Lee Luskin often waxes poetic in prose; the evening described herein called out for the compression of verse.