A few weeks ago, I took a trip home to visit my family up north. Early summer is a beautiful season there, even the rains are soft and shimmery. Nearly every day I was there I took time to sit, observe, and write. Here is a poem that came from that respite:
Summer Pastoral
This morning’s sky is blue-gray, strewn with clouds.
The air is cool and fresh, purple-green-gold leaves rustling gently
in thick, sturdy trees. A windmill circles in constant motion
as geese pass, honking and calling across the pond.
They swim across in twos and threes, then perch
upon the grass, nipping and squawking at each other,
proclaiming their right to this bit of land.
A parading procession of them pass through the lawn,
black necks stretched high, beaks opening
to guide their goslings along.
The waters of the pond ripple and flow, fast, constant -
a soothing stream. The high, musical chirping songs of birds
mingle in the air with the drone of a mower and the hum
of engines on a highway. Streaks of sunlight come to perch
upon the bushes, brief, temporal -
the sun breaking through clouds
to land on pink blooms. Swiftly the wind presses
the clouds on, hiding the light, leaving dappled patches
across the grass.
I sit within this early summer pastoral scene, in the city
but also a countryside that ever feels like home, and write -
the gray-blue dawn stretching
into day before me.
You can find my blog posts at my Website: www.stacieeirich.com where I'll be sharing a monthly poem, short prose or song.
I'm also writing a seasonal Newsletter✍ for readers & listeners; look for the sign-up at my website.
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