Tag Archives: summer

Friday Poem: August

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

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

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Summer

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

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Fun Fair

Fun Fair

Turning spinning in a giant Teacup
Flying in chairs round and round
Surrealism rampant on a hot summer night
Sliding whooping skeltering heltering into the dusk

Bumping thumping crashing the cars
Shrieking with gleeful joy
Candy coloured lights flash into the near dark
Illuminating lovers and overexcited children
Tell me, is the coconut shy?

 

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond