An August Aria

Earth is a garden billowing with threshing days... and flow’rs... The kitchen is a paradise of aromatic thrillOf vinegar and pickling spice, garlic, pepper and dill... Earth is a garden billowing with threshing days and flow’rsWhile a keen scythe is winnowing sweet summer of its hours The kitchen is a paradise of aromatic thrillOf vinegar and pickling spice, garlic, pepper and dill The afternoon-sun scorches rural vistas with its blazeWhile we seek north-faced porches to escape its sizzling rays The landscape like a giant bolt of fabric unfurled, liesIn rippling sweeps/heaps of green and gold beneath heat-hazy skies …a stage where cricket-minstrels hide to play their ceaseless tuneTugging at heart-strings gently tied to dusk’s rose-tinted moon And wafting softly on the air, fond good old days renewIn children’s voices falling where once we were children too © Janet Martin