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"!!!!

Of peaches and memories....

Monday morning
August 13th, 2018

Here's to the time warp that dwells in the peach,

breathing sweetness and nostalgia in equal parts

as I peel, quarter and dice

at the kitchen sink.

The fragrance of the peach surrounds me,
and the wand of memory emerges....

Suddenly, magically, I am no longer a lady in her nineties!

I am a young wife and mother,

making peach pie for those I love

perhaps a chocolate cake  to go

with a bowl of Red Havens

and a spoonful of ice cream

or canning jars of lusciousness

for winter suppers

while yummy peach jam

bubbles on the stove

or perhaps I am taking the steps of a ladder

up amidst the green leaves of the peach tree

while my hand reaches out  for

a bit of globular heaven

Or I am a mother

coming in from the orchard

hot, and covered in peach fuzz

-- inclined to be a little sharp with the young ones

who impede my way to the shower!!!!

and then we are retired!

regretting the loss of our peach block

but haunting the fruit stands

for a tree-ripened peach

to take home to my loved one

all these lovely memories evoked

by the fragrance of the fruit I hold in my hand.

the magic of time disappears

and I am alone with my peach and my paring knife

and my memories.

grateful for the days that inspire them.

Life is good

The magic of memory 

bewitches me!!