The End of July

Have you never felt the thick weight of the afternoon you are saying goodbye to . . . ?

The End of July

On the porch my beloved 
discovered me in tears.
Asked whether or not I was all right.

I just read the most beautiful poem,
I said, and thought: Haven't you ever cried 
over how lucky and sad a single moment can be?

Have you never felt the thick weight
of the afternoon you are saying 
goodbye to, hour by hour by hour?

Right now, there's just one swallow's nest
left on the eaves with chicks yet to fledge.
Solace comes in with the Red Crossbills careening

en masse to the pond for their sip
and quick bath in the shallow
muddy crater I must fill for them daily.

Soon, the dragonflies will hover,
drawn as they are to the wet open womb-scape 
to hatch that which will never come back here. 

This is the world,
and a world is what a heart is,
neither of which will tick like this for long.

Thank you for reading.

{| AC

Photo by Deva Darshan