Poems August 2017

The consistent chirp of the bugs
Indicate the gears of creation are meshing
Grinding fine the coffee for the cup
Eddie next door taps with a peen hammer some part for the mower

We can wait forever, the bunch of us
For a finger pointing: Go there! Be this!
But you're nothing more than the glow on the leaves you see when you lift your head and look east
Leaves that are 6 weeks from falling and the clatter of rakes