In the Sunset

Edward Hopper House at Dusk 1935

In the sunset

where the day hides its most vulnerable moments

I think of you

In the most tender hour

between light and dark

I still feel the ache

of a lost friendship.

submitted for The Mag 119

August Is Not

 Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

August is not a month for the meek

The incessant song of the cicadas has been known

to drive the weak of will to drink

and the weak of mind to madness

The pavonine petals of the proud tulips

have already succumbed

as have the other giddy blooms of spring

Only the most hardy, least demanding remain

to suck on the dust

and pretend it's rain

August is not a month for equivocation

There is no time for ambiguity; patience

ebbs as days grow shorter,

hotter

and the nights press down, heavy

with meaning and sweat.

submitted for Magpie Tales 77