High Summer Gold

July 28, 1993

Sirens fraying out along the road,

coming closer, farther,

round the curve, up on the road

above, behind the trees.

Not one, but several.

Yesterday, the day before,

fires had been burning in the woods.

It might be wise to find some vantage point

and see just where

the beast now reared its head.


It was that time of day

I loved the best.

The sun had barely gone

but the brilliance of its light

still filled the milky orange sky

a cloudless even colored sky

swimming in a haze of color.

The fields of stubble on my left

glowed deep russet gold –

embers waiting to be fanned to flame –

the city on its cliff loomed up ahead

a monochrome, a sepia tint

of rock and roofs and spires.

And on my right the tufo cemetery wall

horrendous  1930s fake fortress tower

drank in the light, redeemed,

and cast it forth a deeper gold.

The fields around were caught in a net of darkling hedges.

Skyline trees gulped up the light

like some black hole.


Nothing mattered

in this summer moment

but the golden sky,

the echoing fields

and the city

caught in a final burst of glory

before the night set in.

5 thoughts on “High Summer Gold

  1. Even if I had never actually “seen” the places you talk about, I could “see” them through your words….

    B Xxoo

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    Like

  2. I find this to be a beautiful poem but equally a disturbing one, knowing of the fearsome fires raging this summer in parts of North America. There’s an ambivalence in your lines. I’ve both read and listened to this poem – with appreciation and admiration.

    Liked by 1 person

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