We have said “good-bye” to August. I will share this poem which I wrote that final week. It was published in “The Weekly Avocet” by editor Charles Portolano. The poem came out just in time for my 74th birthday celebration on August 27, 2017.

But upon further research in my archives, I found that this poem was published in a chapbook originally.
This poem was published in my latest book, Star Signs: New and Selected Poems.

 August Mornings.

he first announcements of shifting seasons

begin to materialize early on August mornings

Under-stated changes happened slowly

when the purple Pokeweed hangs in long clusters

beneath hearty leaves along the well-worn pathway.

Grasses in the meadow display delicate daisy clusters

urgently beckon me to pay attention today

Tread lightly through the grass.

I cast my attention towards the Queen of Summer

Standing in the meadow,

I remain motionless, wide-eyed, surrounded

as the celadon green stems

display the Queen-Anne’s Lace in full bloom.

These graceful ballet dancer’s hover

on the warm August breeze.

Orchestrations in rural fields and along roadsides

They each remember to arrive at this time every year

Nothing can prevent the shifting waves of change

I’ll wait patiently for the blue Chicory to join the dance

In her wisdom, Nature placed them together on a stage

floral dancers on a late-summer stage.

Graceful choreography.

Give them a standing ovation.

*

Journal Entry: August 1, 2017.

 My early morning walk with my 2 dogs today was so pleasant. It’s not too hot right now  in western Pennsylvania.  I’ve noticed how the sounds of nature change with each new month. The activities of the local birds have changed. No longer are they in the middle of nest building or babysitting. The little babies have grown up now and left their nests and the sounds of the insects has become more intense with the shifting of the season.  In the meadow behind my house, the flowering plants have changed, too.   Recently, I saw  that the Queen-Ann’s Lace is in full bloom on tall stalks, hovering about all the other plants. They are truly glorious. But, for me, the test of all August blooms will be when the blue Chicory begins to bloom right alongside the Queen Ann’s Lace. They will mingle into natural bouquets like none other. This is the exact moment I wait for all Summer long. I don’t pick them or bring them into the house. I prefer to walk through the meadow and meander among the plants to enjoy them exactly where they have bloomed. It’s a lyrical feeling, being part of all of this glory, right there among the plants and blooms of August. Somehow, I don’t know why or how, but when I walk outside and enjoy the myriad of Nature’s delights, I am a dancer moving along gracefully on a stage to an eternal choreography.”)  

 

Lynda McKinney Lambert. Copyright 2017. All rights reser@zoominternet.net

Lynda McKinney Lambert  lives and writes in  western Pennsylvania.

She is the author of 5 books:

Songs for the Pilgrimage, 2021.

first snow, a chapbook.  January 1,2020.Star Signs: New and Selected Poems,2019.

Walking by Inner Vision: Stories & Poems, DLD Books, 2017

Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage, Kota Press, 2003.

Lynda is a retired professor fine arts and humanities from Geneva College, Beaver Falls, PA.

Her retirement in 2008 opened the door for her to work full-time at her writing and art making passions.

Lynda lost most of her vision in 2007, due to Ischemic Optic Neuropathy.  This challenge has not kept her from producing her creative work or from teaching. Her art is exhibited in international and national exhibitions and her writing is published in  a variety  of literary venues.

Note: This poem was first published as August Mornings, in 2017. Lynda changed the title to  Graceful Choreography, when she included it in her new book, Star Signs: New and Selected Poems, published in 2019. It was published again under the new title on August 25, 2019, by  The Weekly Avocet, Issue #305.” Just a little poem history tidbit on this particular poem!

Our truest life is when we are in our dreams – awake. ~ Henry David Thoreau