The nights are longer and darker in August
even though the shortest day was six weeks ago.
The night feels right for thinking and writing
and I concentrate on draft after draft before the final version.
My imagination is tuned in to more frequencies
and more stations, without any static on the airwaves.
I can write in longhand until late in the evening
and when I get out of bed in the still-dark morning,
When I see outside the window ripe lemons on the tree by the fence.
Once more I can make my own drinks adding sugar and honey.
The guava tree which I planted in autumn has grown fruit down low,
fruit that will last. The fig tree, though, is slow to grow.
Some nights the rain falls heavily on the corrugated-iron roof;
it is a unique sound that I like to hear and it is soporific.
There are gale-force winds which blow stronger in July,
like the winds of change which are blowing now across this country.
4/5 August,2019.
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The marvelous poem and the picture of this fruit laden orange tree gladdens my heart.This is a poem from the heart a poet who has lived a meaningful life and well satisfied. When I see outside the window ripe lemons on the tree by the fence. Once more I can make my own drinks adding sugar and honey. The guava tree which I planted in autumn has grown fruit down low, fruit that will last. The fig tree, though, is slow to grow.
Thanks for your objective assessment. Yesterday I revised and shortened this poem.
Michael, I appreciated your comment on today’s Pope poem. I was already signed out when I saw it and decided to read at least one poem of yours and leave a comment to help me find you again—so here I am. I look forward to exploring more of yours. -Glen
Thanks for your comment Glen. I will likewise read some of your work. I'm glad you saw my carefully considered comment on Alexander Pope. In his best poems, he is not dated.
You have so touchingly and hauntingly expressed on season, nature, rain and environment around you having a brilliant outlook. I want to cite some lines here...When I see outside the window ripe lemons on the tree by the fence. / Once more I can make my own drinks adding sugar and honey.......Some nights the rain falls heavily on the corrugated-iron roof; / it is a unique sound that I like to hear and it is soporific. Brilliant poem.10
Thanks for even noticing this poem, which was quite easy to write, but I still had to make corrections. Winter will soon turn to spring.
A lovely insightful poem which delights the reader by the variety of its palate- from the impact of different seasons on one's routine, on growth rate of different fruit-trees, rains and wind. Loved reading the poem which goes into MyPoemList.
Thanks Rajnish. I do like winter in some ways and it is easier to write from personal experience and observations, I find.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The winds are a changing blown by the winter of mind. Enjoyed this one Michael.