Tag Archives: summer

Helsinki Summer Sky

August 21, 2021poem, Poetry, summerHelsinki, poem, poetry, sky, summerThe Cheesesellers Wife

Firs reach up like brushes
to paint you a deeper blue

gulls drift on taut wings over
waves crumpling against rocky islets

myriads of small bright coloured boats
sidle around towering white ferries

your summer bounty
glints on every surface

fresh minted each day

For John Looker

Wednesday afternoon

August 4, 2021garden, poem, Poetry, summergarden, poem, poetry, summerThe Cheesesellers Wife

Doves coo avid yet languid in unexpected heat
Soft breeze tickles the vine above my head
Somewhere someone mows a lawn

Midsummer White

June 20, 2021dragon, Fantasy, poem, Poetry, Science Fiction Poetry, speculative poetryFantasy, midsummer, poem, poetry, Science Fiction Poetry, speculative poetry, summer, uffington white horseThe Cheesesellers Wife

The ancient one, birthed in another age
beak mouthed, strangely skeletal
peels away from her verdant slope
stutters stonily on tiny hooves
shakes dust from ethereal flanks
nuzzles her impalpable foal

She who once pulled the chariot of the Sun
wakes on this eve of dreams
gallops over hill and vale
bone stone cold creature
looming, outsized, lumpy
she sails over hedgerows
scatters cattle and chickens
sets farm dogs barking
pet dogs to cower

She will break over you like an ocean wave
roll you over and under in your midsummer dreaming
refreshing or drowning, you make your choice, take your chance

Rosy fingered dawn will return her
stiffening to the high slopes
she settles creaking into green
back to the land

For now

If you stand in the valley near the village of Uffington in Oxfordshire and look up at the high curve of chalk grassland above, you can see an enormous white, abstract stick figure horse cut into the grass. She has a sweeping body, a round eye set in a square head, a beak. and an invisible foal (you’ll have to trust me on that last one).

This is the Uffington White Horse, a 3,000-year-old pictogram visible from 20 miles away.

Once every hundred years the Uffington horse gallops across the sky to be reshod by Wayland in his smithy, just along the Ridgeway track. This is said to have last happened in around 1920. Maybe Wayland waits for her tonight……

This poem was written for the Earthweal Weekly Challenge.

Summer’s loss

September 12, 2020beauty, Fantasy, nature, poem, Poetry, summer, winterautumn, equinox, Mythology, poem, poetry, summer, winterThe Cheesesellers Wife

Heart broken she withdraws
as every winter
into dark soil
as every winter

The promise of the stars nightly turning
the sinking and turning of constellations
the track of planets wandering across the sky
say that she will return

Time past she was encouraged
by midwinter fires
now we trust to orbital mechanics

Rain

August 19, 2020climate, England, poem, Poetry, summerClimate crisis, poem, poetry, rain, summerThe Cheesesellers Wife

Delicious dampness, fresh scented grey,
Washing the stuffy warm weather away
My soul is a sponge, expanding when wet,
And sunshine’s a word I’d rather forget,
I like the newness of autumn (but its only July!)
The soggy clean clouds that fill up the sky
Change is the thing, after two weeks the same,
Filled with humid hot weather –Thank God for rain!

It is raining today and more is forecast. This year we have had many weeks of very hot humid weather. We English are not built for that……

Submitted to the Dverse Open Link Night.

Friday Poem: August

August 7, 2020Friday Poem, poem, Poetry, summeraugust, Finland, Friday Poem, Helsinki, summer, Tove JanssonThe Cheesesellers Wife

Every year, the bright
Scandinavian summer nights
fade away without anyone

noticing.

One evening in August
you have an errand outdoors,
and all of a sudden
it’s pitch-black.

A great warm, dark
silence
surrounds the house.
It is still summer,

but summer is no longer
alive.
It has come
to a standstill;

nothing

withers, and autumn
is not ready to begin.
There are no stars yet,
just darkness.

The can of kerosene
is brought up from the cellar
and left in the hall,
and the lamp is hung up
on its peg by the door.
Day by day,

everything

moves closer
to the house.

By Tove Jansson

Walking in the Park

July 1, 2020Corona, nature, poem, Poetrylockdown, nature, poem, poetry, summerThe Cheesesellers Wife

They have mown the grass in the park
Well, most of it
The scent is wonderful
It has been left long on the Bronze Age burial mounds
Where the wild grass flowers form a purpled haze
Behind, Foxgloves spike up from the drainage ditch into the hedge
I walk up the southern mound to find the stone marked PEACE
Commemorating more recent dead from civil war
The sky is littered with clouds white and gray
As its blue darkens towards twilight
On this long June evening
After a day of rain
The scent of new mown grass says
Summer

Llansteffan

February 19, 2020beauty, poem, Poetry, summerbeach, beauty, Llansteffan, poem, poetry, summer, WalesThe Cheesesellers Wife

Gulls swoop and lift
stitching sea to sky

Mirror smooth sun glinted
water sips at the shore

Supping on scampi in salt air
we have found our bliss

Summer

October 26, 2019Life, nature, poem, Poetry, summer, winterautumn, fall, nature, poem, poetry, summer, winterThe Cheesesellers Wife

Heart broken she withdraws
as every winter
into dark soil
lets warmth seep from all

The promise of the stars nightly turning
the sinking and turning of constellations
the track of planets wandering across the sky
says that she will return

Time past she was encouraged
by midwinter fires
now we trust to orbital mechanics

Summer

February 23, 2019art, poem, Poetryart, poem, poetry, summerThe Cheesesellers Wife

Heated darkness
presses sleep away

brings longing
for cool water splashes

and sweet fresh mornings
after rain

The weather in England this week seems as warm as summer, but not as warm as described here….. yet!