August Day

It is early morning and the splash of color in the sky – a gift of sunrise. This second august day is cooler, more breathable than in previous days. It seems that autumn has stuck it’s big toe in.

I know it’s still a bit early for this but images of autumn leaves surfing crisp cool air fill my head. As I pass an especially woodsy area of this park, there is a steady breeze.

This is enough for a pause with outstretched arms, head tilted back and eyes closed, regardless of who is watching.



cool, breezy morning
hosts lively russle of leaves –
hints of autumn

Pat
8/02/21

For dVerse Poets Pub. Stop by here.

Grit

Ida is an old soul and the fiercest person I know. She was blessed with an abundance of that ‘no nonsense and why the hell not’, attitude.

Conversations this time had awakened deep feelings.

What must it be like going somewhere, and not know that feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb. Or, not having to endure the stares and the under- their- breaths mutterings.

Such feelings were never really shared out loud, they didn’t have to. They knew, being in the skin they were in. Ida too, had experienced this. On one occasion she was heard to say,

‘I didn’t know I was black till I came to America’. She would not elaborate.

But this too she tackled this with her attitude of “no, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife*.” This attitude had served her well; and serves her still.

Pat
7/20/21

*Zora Neale Hurston