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Hot August Night
by
Sharon Auberle


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First, you should know
this is not a poem for summer.
This poem is for the darkest winter hours,
near Solstice, I should think.
Not for tonight, when swallows
are chasing each other through the sky,
and reckless seagulls are climbing
those tall ladders of clouds.
Not for tonight, when flowers and weeds
are all blushing rose, when the sun is sinking
into a featherbed of gold, purple-clad
paramours dancing attendance.
Pull out this poem when the first
blast of nor'easters hits,
when you're trying to recall warm,
the smoky voice of that jazz lady
up there on the stage tonight,
the orange light shining between us.
Save a couple of Summer Shandy ales
,
and stretch out with them by the fire,
on that blanket with old burn marks
and wine stains in the shape of roses.
Forget that another year is gone.
Forget what lies ahead.


© by Sharon Auberle.
Used with the author's permission.



Photo by Len Villano

Sharon Auberle is a poet and photographer who lives in Door County, Wisconsin.  Author of six poetry collections, her work has appeared in numerous publications and on-line magazines, as well as a variety of anthologies. Sharon served as Poet Laureate of Door County from 2017- 2019; her latest book is Dovetail, a poetry/sketch collaboration with poet and artist Jeanie Tomasko, which won the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Annual Chapbook Prize. Sharon’s earlier years of living in the spare landscapes of the Southwest, and now surrounded by  Northern woods and waters, along with interests in Zen, music, and photography, provide her with endless inspiration.

              

 


Post New Comment:
dotief@comcast.net:
Once I was on a Bateau Mouche on the Seine in Paris, and I was so cold up there on the top deck in the early spring chill, I thought I would turn to a block of ice. I certainly could have used this poem to warm the hollows of my being. Wonderful!!!
Posted 08/16/2010 08:44 AM
phale2:
I really liked this poem.
Posted 08/16/2010 08:33 AM


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