Hallway to Nowhere

Tag: Late Summer

  • Drinking Tea As A Young Child (Poem)

    I rose before dawn in the late summer.

    I sat on the porch outside my room.

    The air was still and redolent with the salty musky scent of the bayou.

    The bull frogs were still croaking from the night,

    The crickets were chirping,

    And a few birds had begun their morning calls.

    I drank my usual Gunpowder Green in a hand-thrown mug

    And realized I must make a trip to New Orleans soon.

    I needed more tea.

  • Late Summer (Poem)

    This is a time of abeyance,

    A lacuna before the coming of fall.

    The air shimmers with heat

    And the low buzz of insects.

    Rainfall offers little respite,

    Only plangent noise.

    How not to repine

    And search for a proem

    In cooler nights and darkening days?