44839: Poetry From a Zip Code (2018)

This is the second of four poems, written by this pedometer geek, which was accepted into 44839: Poetry From a Zip Code–2018 anthology, published by Drinian Press, LLC. Although this poem is titled, “It’s August,” this pedometer geek shares it now.

It’s August

 

It feels like fall this morning,

but it’s August.

The chill in the air reminds

that too soon winter will be here.

 

Yet, monarchs cover the flowers,

Canna lilies still blossom,

growing ever taller, and

calling to hummingbirds,

who sip nectar from each bloom.

Young boys ride their bikes

before school begins,

the last days of freedom.

 

It feels like autumn this morning,

but it’s August.

There should be plenty of summer left,

with days of hot remaining.

 

Soon the winds from the south

will feel as frosty as northern ones.

Sweaters and jackets will be needed,

warding off the damp,

warding off the cool.

Young boys will ride their sleds

down the basin’s hill,

before the holiday break ends.

 

It feels like autumn this morning,

but it’s August.

 

For now, I’ll find summer where I can.

In the butterflies,

in the blooming flowers,

in children being children,

and in southern breezes.

~Nancy Brady, 2018

The idea for this poem started on a bicycle ride with my husband. We were riding around the city on a chilly August afternoon, August 24, 2018 to be exact, and heading for a local park, which has trails. We never made it as this pedometer geek (with helmet on) fell on the sidewalk and broke my left wrist. Up until then, I had never broken any bones, but I digress. For the next six weeks, this pedometer geek was in a cast and couldn’t write anything, or what I could write was pretty illegible. The poem was written after the cast was removed.