Ode to a Nova Scotia Meadow

Over and over

My mind reverts to

The Nova Scotia meadow

The open repository for

Summer’s fading glory

Where swaths of goldenrod rise

Amidst clusters of hay

And the birch saplings

Shiver interspersed

Gracefully swaying

The stalks bow in prayer

As the breeze coming

From far offshore

Plays an Aeolian air

Inviting to the kestrel’s eye

As it swoops down

For a closer look

Here the prime meridian

Remains fluid yet

Unrehearsed

Stop and listen

To the meadow

Teeming with life

Of cicadas and crickets

And a thousand other winged critters

Unleashed upon the brambles

Of the blackberry bush

Pulsing but unseen

As every sere thistle and vine

Strains for the remnants

Of the late August sun