Ode to September

The cicada’s sizzle-hum sings
all September, rising high
in rippling waves.
Ironweed’s melancholy plum
brightens alongside showy goldenrod.
Monarchs and swallowtails
flit between asters and milkweed
leaving a legacy of yellow-orange eggs.
Jerusalem artichokes reach heavenward
winking their bright black eyes
in afternoon slanted sunlight.
All the world’s gone to seed.
Sumac plumes darken to sienna
while pointed leaves wait
for the brilliant crimson burst
before frost arrives.
Blue sage bids farewell to summer
with azure glow at dusk.

All images found on Wikimedia Commons.

My thought-life battle, Part 3

256px-Vincent_Willem_van_Gogh_106

Melancholy

Vincent, I wish I could soothe
your throbbing ear pain
your shredded psyche pain
your anguished soul pain.
I completely understand
the constant torturous
sadness avalanche
despite all the beauty,
the ever-hovering dark cloud
casting shadows
over vibrant poppies
bright sunflowers
majestic cypresses
lush irises
and golden wheat.
Let me sit beside you
so I can dress your wound.
Take the pipe from your lips
and remove your coat and hat.
We can share a pot of tea
as we ponder the words from your father’s sermon,
the holy words I’ve read many times:
think on everything that is true
noble
right
pure
lovely
admirable
excellent
praiseworthy.
And the God of peace will be with us,
the two of us gathered in His name.