Smoke And Portents On A Summer Afternoon (poetry)

Smoke And Portents On A Summer Afternoon

The lawn's been mown

and now smoke is rising from my bowl

made from the antler of a deer

that died before June 13, 1993.

That date is set in stone.

Today is July 24, 2019.

The bowl and my hand

have accommodated themselves gratefully

and purposefully to each other

over the years.

Today in the front yard sunflowers bloom,

on the side porch morning glory vines

with blossoms climb upward

wrapping themselves around the rafters of the porch filling their cups with photons that left the sun

eight minutes and twenty seconds earlier

with an urgent message:

"Keep on climbing, it's still summer

and you have many seeds to make."

Fuel is added and the smoke continues rising,

the present summer afternoon
turns into former summers...

making me laugh,

but sometimes there's tears

that become something else altogether 

with the passing of years….

This afternoon photons with a message sting my face

drawing drops of moisture from beneath my skin.

While smoke curls up from my antler bowl

and wraps around the morning glory vines,

I bemusedly consider what it means.

Rising from the bowl the smoke

brings unspoken messages to my soul

as photons release a sweet fermented gasp

from the fallen blades of grass;

from ninety million miles away they desiccate

and transform

what the October rains

will mediate

and re-form.

"Caw", a crow calls from atop the poplar

behind the house.  "Caw."

On the way out with a cup of peanuts for the crow I think:

 

"This is my seventy second summer…

All I did was chop wood

and carry water

and now the well is dry.

I wonder what's next."

© David H. Roche