Showing posts with label spiders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiders. Show all posts

Thursday, September 24, 2009

at their gentle best


Good morning. I've noticed the change in the seasons coming of late, a bit quirky in my observations I suppose, I see things that are poetic in nature and not all together structured to the vision of one's eyes but of one's heart. September has always been a favorite time of year for me, a melancholy month to be sure- Fall hangs like a cloak on the trees and dampens all the webs with dew. It's a time that all good things must end, or rather prepare for deep sleep, spiders have all my sympathy. They are the hardest little workers these days and I marvel at their work ethic, often running into their masterpieces while mowing or walking and then later finding that once again, even with their sure demise just around the corner- they rebuild again and again.

Before the leaves begin their free fall from the old Silver Maples in the yard, it's as though the branches and twigs that hold the stem to the leaves give a final heave and then slowly, deliberately bow- humbled with the weight of so many leaves now left to fall where they may, the trees seem exhausted and droops accordingly. Preying Mantises are everywhere- on the Golden Rod, the flag on the old summer kitchen, on the screens to the sun porch. Green and brown and sometimes a rust red, depending on what they're perched upon. And now too, the birds seem impatient- fighting amongst themselves or perhaps it's time that the little birds found their own way and in their reluctance to leave the nest- they squabble with their parents. The night noises are at their gentle best, coyotes howling in the distance, crickets and tree frogs harmonizing- the melody of September is one I know by heart and love so well. The Big Fish says in Maine- it's much quieter. This worries me so much so that I've decided to tape record my evenings here, just in case the silence breaks my heart. So much to do before the big move, but I cannot forget what sustains me. I must frame each event and give it subtle reference- like "September sunrise" or "late fall reflection" in case I need visuals too, on what has all been blessed assurances to my soul here on this farm.

Ahhh, my days are numbered now- not much longer, the wait. The house will be closed on by mid November, things being mostly settled by mid October, hope I will be too.

Take care-

Monday, September 1, 2008

To September





Sunflowers bow-
bending at their brown
dried knees
no longer following
the sun
humbled now, they fade

Spiders busier-
by night they spin
sunrise casts first light
on their dew drop craft-
intricate lines
of deception

Birds and more birds
gather on lines and poles
like little feathered men
assembled in rows
something startles one
-off they all fly madly

Sun rise bothers not
to wake me these days
I am the one who shakes
to rise and shine-
a bucket of cracked corn
rattled like an alarm

As for the moon-
too early he rises
in a golden way
hypnotizing me,
early yawns follow-
triumphantly he glows

When sun and moon together
compress the day
between horizons
of awe and wonder-
daylight beaten,
I surrender...

To September.
by T.L. Starks 2008