LAST DANCE OF SUMMER

On By poems of garden gnomesIn Autumn, Dance, Form, Music, Poem, Poems of Garden Gnomes, Project, Summer

And so, this week marks another “end of Summer”. Although the weather conditions around here (Buffalo) call for brilliant sunshine and temperatures in the 80’s, Summer will give way to the Autumn of our year (as some of us bask in the autumn of our years!)

But before we pay full homage to the Fall season, let us have one last fling – one last dance with this Summer. Maybe your conditions were optimum; the perfect Summer. We know our friends, brothers and sisters have suffered greatly in the south and southeast due to the damage caused by Hurricanes Harvey and Irma. But we can all find something on which to hang our garland.

I ask that you think of those moments, play your favorite summer song and dance (in poetic terms) in tribute to the last days of summer. And to keep you on point, include the idea of a “dance” and be use to include the word somewhere in your poem or title thereof. Summer goes so quickly, it seems. Give her one last go-around!

WALT’S SUMMER DANCE:

WALTZ: SUMMER DANCE

The soft summer sunset
places our silhouettes against the sky
and the cast of evening magic in your eyes.
The crash of the lake at our feet
as we shuffle in the heat of our dance,
is like the single sound of two hearts beating.
You, the gardener of my soul,
I am lost in the music of your laughter
and your gaze robs me of simple speech.
I love you with the truest love,
it is nothing compared to an eternity.
I find myself riding the red-eye to morning,
because you have charmed the love right out of my heart.
Your influence permeates everything I touch,
and the blessing of you has been a well dealt hand in my life.
I live every waking second in loving reflection of you.
Summers may come to a close, but my heart knows.
I will dance with you until the music fades.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Keep good thoughts and prayers for Salvatore Buttaci as he undergoes surgery this morning.

This past Form Friday offering is the CHOKA.

The PROJECT: POEM – Connection has been served up as well.

32 thoughts on “LAST DANCE OF SUMMER”

  1. Pingback: Last Dance of Summer | echoes from the silence

  2. connielpeters

    Last Dance

    The summer dance is near the end,
    As breezes blow through verdant leaves.
    The sun smiles down like leaving friend,
    While weather offers short reprieves.

    Adventurers will rush about
    To get in just one last hurrah.
    They’ll camp and sail, and try new route,
    A summer thrill to give them awe.

    And soon the leaves will dance in time.
    They’ll drift and lift in autumn air.
    In bright new dress, they’re quite sublime.
    Let summer end with splendid flare.

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  3. Monarch Mambo

    It’s the last dance the
    last chance to sip the
    nectar util they’re tipsy

    warm autumn days
    just right for gliding riding
    currents – spinning and fluttering

    orange and black in aerial
    display testing, resting new wings
    till time is up and they must fly

    migration begins

    Liked by 1 person

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  5. Farewell Dance

    Ah poet, partial to the piracies of golden gilt
    And empirical lyrics writ with bit of petal spilt
    From Duty’s beauty-métier, Love casts a wistful eye
    Where earth pours tints of cabernet to limbs of lullaby

    The earth and the fullness thereof belong-eth to the Lord
    So too each day; Summer’s tray spills a bittersweet reward
    For always with the holding comes its sacred severed tie
    Flamboyant frolics folding into hymns of hush-a-bye

    Tomorrow’s tabled tombstones, some we guess at; some we know
    Ah poet, dip your quill into time’s inkwell of hello
    For where fair flower-rivers rush through dreamy stare and sigh
    It drains its rainbow-giddy gush in leaf-by-leaf goodbye

    The orchard bows beneath the boon of harvest-swoon, red-sage
    Forever is a feather-flourish on a fragile page
    Where summer, like shadow or a friend lost far too soon
    Fashions thought’s tender splendor in the soul-song of the moon

    Ah poet, prone to lament the monotone undertow
    That dwindles in its giving and grasps in its letting go
    Like a slow dance of sorrow-joy, troubadour caught between
    The bliss of what is waiting and the kiss of what has been

    Wrote this, then saw the prompt so I tweaked it a little…hope it’s okay.

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  10. September Box Step

    Summer has gotten old
    and slow. It’s forgotten
    how to make, to shake it,
    how to sway sensually.

    Tomatoes from this same plant busted the June and July scales
    with plate-sized, bend-over-the-sink-and-eat-’em-like-peaches
    tomatozillas. Now the branches just drag. And no amount of
    squeezed out hurricane rain will lift its leaves toward gratitude.

    Now the squirrels ignore
    the small, cat-faced fruits
    hiding in the marigolds
    and gone-to-seed basil.

    I haven’t taken care of the garden in more weeks than I will
    admit. When I do carry snips and a bucket to the plot near
    the water tap, the bucket is only for dead plant matter. But
    there’s a thin plastic grocery bag in my back pocket, in case.

    Liked by 3 people

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  11. Summer 2017

    We danced our way through the summer
    in spite of hurricanes, forest fires,
    and Korea’s Rocket Man
    shooting his fireworks to wow the world.

    Meanwhile, I spent the summer obeying my Lord’s request
    to record audio files of “God’s Little Miracle Book”
    I, II, and III, so when my days are ended here
    I’ll leave behind a recorded account
    of His merciful, mysterious ways.

    I say, “Farwell, summer,”
    as the last notes linger on the balmy breeze.

    Liked by 2 people

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