Poetry|Writing in the Margins
Late Summer Rain
A poem
Monsoon season
Is the life and death of summer.
It gives life
In a watery fireworks display.
The finale in September is always extraordinary.
It angrily tears through,
Because it knows its time is almost up.
But it wants you to know
It will be back next year
With a vengeance.
Then fall creeps in
And catches the trees on fire
In yellows, golds, oranges, and reds.
In winter the ashes fall to the ground
And set the stage for the Phoenix of spring.
The monsoon returns next summer
To put out the flowery embers,
And the cycle continues
In the ever seductive curves of lemniscate.
I wrote my poem yesterday morning and then stumbled upon this beautiful piece by Walter Pop Matthews IV last night. Great minds…. Give it a read too. ❤️