August, 2001 Monthly Feature : Each month I have been putting together some of my favourites to share with you. Archives
Fête Champetre
[Let's now take our time, While we're in our prime, And old, old age is afar off; For the evil, evil days Will come on apace, Before we can be aware of. |
In August, without design or foresight, even the poorest abandoned field and roadside hold riots of summer celebrations. Bright-eyed daisies, stately daylilies, and goldenrod vie wantonly with blue cornflowers, majestic sunflowers and quiet queen anne's lace for bee- and butterfly-attention. These peasant serving lads and lasses flit through the frenetic party - easing heavy headed flowers of excess pollen and feeding others in turn. Honeysuckle and morning glorys hold up drunken fence posts while a serenade of crickets, locusts and peepers accompany the golden finch in dizzying rounds of orchestration. The easy-going breeze, welcome as a favoured guest, briefly dances with each flower in turn, while decorative royal barges of cloud-stuff float by unseeing.
Soon the breeze will turn, an agent of autumnal revolution, and this embarrassing display of excess will be cut down by frost. No longer the brilliant hues of summer, but the muted greens and browns and grays of grass and shrub - these will be the centre of attention.
K.M.G.
|
Beauty and Beauty
When Beauty and Beauty meet
All naked, fair to fair,
The earth is crying-sweet,
And scattering-bright the air,
Eddying, dizzying, closing round,
With soft and drunken laughter;
Veiling all that may befall
After -- after --
Where Beauty and Beauty met,
Earth's still a-tremble there,
And winds are scented yet,
And memory-soft the air,
Bosoming, folding glints of light,
And shreds of shadowy laughter;
Not the tears that fill the years
After -- after --
Rupert Brooke |
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