Robert M. Simmons  

from Tracings (Poems 1964-1992)

                August

            (An Excerpt)

In August

the world moves outside

to decks, patios,

beaches and campsites.

Portable radios, bug lights,

picnic coolers and grills

are the new necessities of life.

Cities seem deserted

as those who can

flee to lakes and mountains and coasts.

Past summers appear like ghosts

teased from hiding

by smells of deep fried foods,

sights of sailing ships

and young bodies on the beach,

by sounds of old songs

from jukeboxes in places

immune to the ravages of time.

Universal laws

fail to explain this trend.

Days never end.

Memories blend

into one shimmering image.

Time comes as close as it ever will

to standing still

and never skips a beat.

                 © 2008 by Robert M. Simmons

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August