Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Lammas


It happens before I notice.
Petals wilt and fall,
greens turn yellow;
the middle of summer
is still very alive,
but ripened,
and gone to seed.
Blossoms become apples,
grass becomes wheat,
sunflowers bow their heads
heavy, black with seeds.
I cannot point
to the hour or day
I got old
but it must have been
in August



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