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September 1st and 2nd

September 1st

The obligatory backpacks bought,
The sectioned notebooks and the cornucopia of Sharpies,
Heralding the dull march back to classrooms, schedules.
In its forlorn wake a trail of
Unhurried pancake breakfasts
And lying perfectly still on a sun-scorched dock,
Until perhaps trailing a finger,
But only one.

September 2nd

Boats pulled out for the season
Children rushing to school
And like a switch was flipped overnight
The water in the bay now darker
Deeper

Labor Day.

Funny word for the end.
Summer’s being given the bum’s rush.
All its lushness and abandon.
Broken rules
And splendor.
No more nonsense now.
Time to be adults again.
It’s what autumn does.
Leaving us
The poorer for it.
Safeguarding the child in us
Until May honors us
Once more.

 

A poem I wrote in honour of the summer – This Instead

A poem I wrote in honour of the summer.

 

This Instead

There’s a hole in the sprinkler

and the patio needs swept

but not now.

Let’s use summer for something else,

do what people used to do

in sunshine.

Lie together on old blankets

beside a river we happen upon.

Stare up at the blue holding hands

blurting out whatever comes to us.

Time will have no sway.

We’ll just lie there

for hours.

Let the day take us

until we are counting

the stars.

Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum profile

Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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Thanks for sharing

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