The Fog of Summer

The damp days of summer,

The green and the gray,

The wet grass on bare feet,

fog rolling across the lawn in gossamer curtains.

I feel a chill in the air,

The harbinger of change—a hint

of Autumn in late July.

There are more summer days ahead,

filled with sunshine, sand, and warmth.

There are waves to ride and sandcastles to build, but

always the winter chill

barks like a dog on a chain

tied up at the back of the barn

where I try to forget him,

and hope I will silence him with starvation.

But he will bide his time and grow strong again.

One day he will break his chain

and glide over the north county in his loping stride

bringing ice on his breath

and snow in his fur

to banish the summer sun

and the autumn plenty.

He carries hunger in his belly

and gobbles up hope.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 20, 2015)

Summer Rain

I just want to sit and listen to this rain

I want to turn off the manmade world and let Nature sooth my soul.

The repeated phrases of a vireo’s song are dripping from the trees.

Tufted titmice, gray as this stormy sky, scold and call from foliage

embracing me like verdant arms.

This summer rain in the north woods is a lovely place to be;

If the earth is my mother, then,

I am snuggling into her breast

and listening to her beating heart,

and this rain is not the sound of weeping but,

a soothing lullaby.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 1, 2015)