Lengthening light

She is out more these days,
So she sees the world’s flaws more acutely.

Glintings from the lawn recast as a graveyard
For shards of corrugated metal too broken to haul away,
But creased and cracked beyond the point where they could be conscripted
Into the construction so proudly designed over last winter’s lull.

Flames in a Dionysan dance
Around savories coming to resemble
The charcoals that propel them to anaerobic excess.

Sparkles from sprinkler drops that don’t survive
Long enough to minister to the marigolds their needed dousing.

This woman must turn home
To discover which child needs a Band-Aid today.
But another lingers, jammed into the polypropylene embrace of her tilted deck chair,
Hoping to trap the bounty of a sun
That seasons her skin and eases her tight-wound muscles.

For the radiance like the waterdrops will evaporate so soon,
And there will be no balm for creaking joints as
They age another year.

And two men curse with throttled voices in an Iwo Jima pose beside the massive lamp
They struggle to mount
Whose outpost over a front walk would pierce the dominion of long nights
And comfort neighbors.

The light lengthens and draws with it all the solaces, the hopes, the resolutions
That patient folk have saved up in darker times,
The season they so long sought
But whose end they will soon welcome,
Only to start clearing a place by the hearths of their imaginations
So they can greet it again next year.

Andy Oram
June 21, 2010

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