Where Old Fliers Come to Roost
Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff. Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.
Poem of the Month
The last hurrah! Labor Day marks the “official” end of Summer. Although our local children started back to school two weeks ago, most schools start in earnest next week. This is the last weekend for families and kids to grab paddle boards, kayaks and canoes and spend a lazy afternoon drifting on the lake in our back yard. Over the next month they will slowly disappear, until the lake is all ours again. The families, the laughing kids, the fishermen, migrating like birds until Springtime calls them back. We treasure the quiet of Winter, but will miss our warm weather guests. It’s all part of the cycle, as another Summer “officially” comes to an end. Our Poem of the Month, from an earlier collection, is a recognition of cycles and “Passages.”
August 2018 -- Feeding the Beast
July 2018 - One Can Have Knowledge...
June 2018 -- The Unsinkable Molly Drown
May 2018 -- Advice to my Grandson
April 2018 -- Awaiting Idunn
March 2018 -- Flight
February 2018 -- Lakesong
January 2018 -- Schrödinger's Cat
December 2017 -- Daybreak
October 2017 -- Night Watch
September 2017 -- The Princess
August 2017 - Pelham
July 2017 -- Siena
June 2017 -- Loyal, Straight, and True
May 2017 -- A Thousand Flowers
April 2017 -- Oboe Rap
March 2017 - March Madness
February 2017 -- The Cost of Doing Business
January 2017 -- Reflection at a Winter Window
December 2016 -- The Creation
November 2016 -- Hemolymph Moon
October 2016 -- Vortex
September 2016 -- Do You?
Ancient Eagle Press
A season has passed since you walked these grounds.
The pond has shed her fishnets and dressed in gossamer,
Put on iris ear loops of purple and yellow,
Cinched her waist with water lettuce and hyacinth,
A water lily blooming at her cheek;
Snow bells have come and gone,
Crocus and jonquils in their wake;
May apples, trout lilies, coral bells flirted briefly beneath the oaks;
Tiny chestnut and giant peony buds opened and delighted;
Ginger and violets, dandelions and grasses have painted the lawn,
As poplar and crepe myrtle splashed yellows and reds against the sky.
And now, as crystal summer yields to misty autumn,
I watch the world prepare for winter sleep, resting to begin again
The timeless dance across these grounds where once you walked.
from "The Ant Farm," 2011