Poetry
by R. C. (RCat) Arquette
Another
Florida Summer
Sea oats grow
no need to sow
swaying in the summer breeze
the roots grow deep
to hold
the shifting sands
the sun pours through me
as if I weren't here
and each wave
breaks upon the beach
rolling on forever
the sound
of tranquility
there is life here
at the edge of the world
in every shape and color
and it always greets me
inviting me
slow down
to stop
and stay awhile
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The
Rivers of Summer
The Myakka river
slowly twists and rambles
through saw edged palmettos,
long needle pines, and sable palms
past wide eyed bony scrub cattle
chewing their cuds; tails swatting flies…
drifting past stately bearded oaks
hung with clumps of Spanish moss
all gathered together in stoic silence
like groups of twisted old men…
A lone, long shiny Black snake,
it's dark forked tongue darting
sampling the still summer air,
tiny glass-like eyes unblinking,
searching out its next warm meal…
almost unseen to the casual observer
he comes slipping through the tall weeds…
down upon the sandy riverbank…
weaving through the cat tails, hyacinth,
disappearing into dried brown reeds…
An undulation of tepid river water,
the color of strong freshly steeped tea,
swirls in eddies round fallen trees,
ripples around old cypress stumps,
making a serpentine lazy passage
past humid sweltering swamp,
shady hammock, and at it's end,
somewhere in the distance,
dissolving into the tropical waters
of the blue watered Gulf of Mexico
An Otter family plays
a rough and rolling game of tag,
a mother and her three young pups
racing the riverbank, tail to tail
chasing each other in and out
of the river's friendly embrace…
the jester kings of their domain…
absorbed in momentary diversions
beneath the long blue June sky…
gone as quickly as they appeared…
Limp, moss covered, and gray,
the old rope swing hangs unmoving
tied to the highest branch
of a tall scrawny oak…
perched high on the eroded bank
it defies gravity…
much as the dozen teens
did on hot summer afternoons
swinging wildly over the river
in carefree youthful abandon…
Dragonfly sits balanced
on a long green Yucca spine…
he has the Scrub Jay's rapt attention…
Turkey vultures glide high overhead
spiraling on a sky full of thermals
as big Crows move tree to tree
cawing their familiar calls…
Cicadas buzz with the change
in temperature as a big fluffy cloud
rises up to block a blazing sun…
The storm moves in quickly
as is the case on summer afternoons…
It's dark mass rolling in from the east
chasing the birds ahead of it…
whipping the long strands of moss
into a chaotic dance among the branches…
lightning tracks flash in the distance…
thunder follows, growling a warning
and the old river grows darker
to match natures changing mood
The rain starts and at once, intensifies,
hurling down drops the size of grapes…
pounding the leafy green canopy above…
disrupting the calm of the river's dark surface…
striking the steep dry sandy banks…
craters pock the water-starved earth
and puffs of dust erupt from the impacts…
the humid tropical air is rapidly replaced
by a cold wetness that awakens the landscape
alive and dripping from the watery renewal…
The events remain wonderfully the same…
acorns rise up from the leaf-strewn ground
finding their way into the sunlight overhead…
growing into the moss bedecked grandfathers
that provide cover for the life on the ground…
surrounding flora and fauna, without complaint,
re-enact the relentless process of life and rebirth …
even the quiet river goes though abrupt change
in times of flood joyously finding new directions…
it's only time that seems to permanently slip away
The old brown Myakka
slowly twists and rambles
through saw edged palmettos,
native slash pine, and sable palm
past lazing alligator and curious raccoon…
past wild pigs rooting, horned owls hooting…
drifting past stately bearded oaks
draped in strands of Spanish moss
all gathered together in stoic silence
like the old man standing silent on the shore…
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Pastoral
Summer Moments Observed
Summer morning
comes on Cicada wings
a few at first, tuning up with a rising sun
a metallic buzz
that grows as the air heats
by late afternoon, a thousand more join in
creating a din
that fills the ears to deafness
background to the call of the Mockingbird
to the noisy Blue Jay
and big shiny black Crows
no better company to keep on a front porch
lulled by the rhythm
of the gliders gentle motion
the ice in a cold drink clinking in the glass
with each movement,
each long, slow, graceful arc
the tranquility of the moment is framed by
the simple harmony
of nature's summer chorus
in these pastoral summer moments observed…
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© copyright 2009 R. C.
(RCat) Arquette
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