post 96: Summer’s END, poetry, painting, Art, Maine

by Carol Bass

My husband does not blog, neither does my son. I understand. I write on my blog because it pushes my painting and my writing forward, and this limited technology sometimes takes the place of a neighbor/friend. My poem and painting for today.


One remaining purple phlox
little white eyes in the middle
one deep purple aster
throwing their sexiness about
well past summer
when most such things
should practice restraint
Those others have left for Rio
or the Taj Mahal
These remaining giving joy
to a rusted brown autumn field
splotched and blobbled
with goldenrod yellows
pearly everlastings
clans of hangers on fiddleheads

One giant black beetle
Up and down
Up and down
slippery wet grass blades
finally reaching
the best show in town
One field of one trillion
chanting crickets

One eagle soaring
in blustery winds
as high as the end of ozone
One day of warm madness
for cold living creatures