August days
The fading light of August days
dipping gradually into September
when some but not all things
fall apart
Foxes know it
you can see it in their eyes
as they look longingly
at the gardens that will soon
be stripped to the bone :
on shed roofs they laze
soaking up the last rays
of the summer sun
There are roses in bloom
the piecemeal beauty
of their petals still intact :
and so gingerly
down by the back fence
I begin to pick blackberries
the plump succulent flesh
occasionally bursting
under the slightest pressure
such a delicate operation
and then a thorn
pierces my forefinger
drawing thick globules of blood
that instantly blend
with the stains
from the crushed fruit
The frailty of it all
year after year
the rise and fall of beauty :
she had it in her eyes
in the soft smooth skin
the graceful gestures
of her hands
her dancer’s feet
in the breadth of her smile
and so we pray
for the resurrection
of the body
John Lyons
Revised from the earlier post
Wonderful poetic verse that paints vivid imagery.
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