August

A smokey evening in August

Even as I indulge myself enthusiastically in 'living'

I keep amongst the contemplative books I dip into

(Chris Arthur, John O'Donahue, Thomas Merton)

a book of "Lasting Words" by Claire B. Willis

and in it I came across this poem by Mary Chivers, 

 "Late August"

It's as if we're always preparing

for something, the endless roll of the earth

opening us.

Even on the most tranquil

late August afternoon when heavy heads

of phlox bow in the garden

and the hummingbird sits still for a moment

on the branch of an apple tree -

even on such a day,

evening approaches sooner

than yesterday, and we cannot help

noticing whole families of birds

arrive together in the enclosure,

young blue birds molted a misty grey,

colored through no will of their own

for a journey.

On such an evening

I ache for what I cannot keep - the birds,

the phlox, the late flying bees-

though I would not forbid the frost,

even if I could.  There will be more to love

and lose in what's to come and this too:  desire

to see it clear before it's gone.

And it reminded me that yes, of course,  all life is a preparation

for what's to come next.... and most importantly,

each day, each moment....

the "desire to see it clear before it's gone".

In other words, "Carpe Diem"!!!!