today I am blessed, today I am given luck.
It takes the shape of a dozen ripening fruit trees,
a curtain of pole beans, a thicket of berries.
It takes the shape of a dozen empty hours.
In them is neither love nor love's muster of losses,
in them there is no chance for harm or for good.
Does even my humanness matter?
A bear would be equally happy, this August day,
fat on the simple sweetness plucked between thorns.
There are some who may think, "How pitiful, how lonely."
Other must murmur, "How lazy."
I agree with them all: pitiful, lonely, lazy.
Lost to the earth and to heaven,
thoroughly drunk on its whiskeys, I wander my kingdom.
I didn't carry a poem in my pocket this week. Although it's a great idea. Instead, I banged back and forth between the slow slipping away of summer, a steady trickle of water through the unseen cracks in my cupped hands, and the thrill of school starting: new chalk, new clothes, new class lists, recitations of the summer's pleasures.
My son can't understand why the pool down the street has to close. And excitedly spends the morning sounding out words in case "big boy school" has some reading in it.
The end of August.