Tag: goldenrod

Solidago

The goldenrod blooms in the August heat

Rolling ribbon of flaming floral light;

Monarchs on the milkweed rest wings and feet,

The sloped sun signals summer’s slow-born night

For which the fawn-brown spider’s spinning

Her web betwixt an elm-tree’s knotted limbs,

Beside the highway, on which one’s speeding;

Strange thoughts wax uncanny as daytime dims.

Past the verge squat homes: clapboard, low and plain,

Silvered barns and fence-posts, and rusting trucks—

The cosy and exotic sought in vain

Scanning map and memory without luck.

The screen-door up the gravelled path

Is a lawn and a universe away;

A fear of real or otherworldly wrath

Makes the driver to in their auto stay.

Clumsy boots crunching the road-shoulder’s stone,

Wandering to Somewhere in the gathering gloam;

Headlights snatch a spectre, wispy and lone,

As if a ghost were thumbing her way home.

Death on a Flower

High in a sky as faience blue
An orb like molten copper glows
Whose fire long chased the morning dew
Off milkweed, thistle, meadow rose;
Cardinal’s call, cicada’s whine
From berry bush and wild-grape vine
Echoes off pine-crowned roadside hill
Where currants ripe, baskets to fill;
Beyond the wood, the Lake beach reeks
Of hot dogs, beer and firework smoke;
The muskrats toil in sun-warmed creeks,
And dragonfly and Mourning Cloak
Dance and whirl, while the barred owl seeks
Soft repose in his hollowed oak
And tree-worms rest in elm-wood bower
Through blist’ring, buzzing mid-noon hour.
A busy bee – no rest for she –
Alights upon a gilt-plumed reed,
The goldenrod which bounds the lea,
So that her kin might thereof feed;
Spies she not that velvety bead?
Yellow, splashed pink, and tense with need –
The eyes, all eight, which gleam with greed?
No shadowed trap, nor silken snare –
‘Tis Beauty forms a murd’rer’s lair.
Lightning claws pounce from living bloom;
A poisoned bite thus seals her doom
While breeze-gusts in the verge-scrub play
Furtive whispers; a Summer’s day.

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Copyright © 2018 by M.G. Warenycia