The Longest Day

Rose

“Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?  I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”                                   Daisy Buchanan, The Great Gatsby

I have an ornament with a sun face on one side and a moon face on the other.  I hang it on a mirror I look into almost every day.  On June 21 I turn it to the moon side; on December 21 I turn it to the sun.  It’s a reminder, always, of the changes to come.

It is cool and rainy today, foreshadowing fall.  Ridiculous, of course, because the forecast is for the mid-90’s for the next two days.  Still…

A prompt a member of  my poetry group suggested is to write about the weather.  You know, since everyone talks about it, you might as well write a poem about it.

                         Midsummer

A long, cold spring and after awhile

I assess my losses:  arbor vitae

replaced, victim of December snow

that froze in place until April.

Crabgrass lawn, outcome of draught

that killed the grass but not the weeds.

And then, amidst the dying grape hyacinth,

I found my Butterfly Weed.

After the eleventh snowiest winter

on record and a wetter than normal spring,

plants I’d wept over last summer sprang up

like Lazarus.  Well into June, the orange rose

I was sure was gone leafed out.  Lucky for me

I’d been too busy to dig it up.

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