be gone August you dusty fool
it's past your time and past your prime
tired of dusty trees, and sultry air
only the sweet beech knows its hour
all other trees green still
a foolish show too proud to know
that death rises now in their sap
give way, give way to glorious days
of golden arches and fallen leaves
sweet downpours wet the still green grass
and darkened mornings let us pass
in anonymity and disguise.
for surely only a hidden life is truly wise
copyright 2025 l. ivison
23 August 2025
overcaste skies but hidden sun
warms the air.
autumn crouches, shy still
but present in every shadow
unseen by most who dream that
summer is still here
there's are hopeless dreams
swift flurries of leaves already fallen
encourage encroaching darkness
the mornings dark already,
rhodidendrons dying blooms
weary from the hottest suns
of yesterday.
the door of the restaurant open now
reminds us with the swift sharp air
that autumn gales are promised
and circling leaves tomorrow will
swirl above heads who little know
that autumn really spring now sows
Amen Copyright L. Ivison2025
22 August 2025
Tourists flee, leave us be
in our dear town
of sweet reknown
'Deep' a word unknown
transformed by time
to 'Dieppe' has grown
and now Autumn's first gales
approach and leaves are blown
from hot and languid trees
pile high and shuffle under foot
poets and children please
and now prepare for the first blast
which sweeps the streets
reveals the past,
old rhythms of the sea will hear again
idle chatter gone at last
Amen copyright L. Ivison 2025
of foolish talk
21 aUGUST 2025
I asked You Lord Jesus
to come into my garden
to rest and listen to the birds
singing a joyful song
to smell the summer roses
which you planted
so long ago
mindful of the thorns that
still rest
the air is heavy with honeysuckle
and the blackbirds sweet song.
stay a while Sweet Lord
stay with me
rest in the golden days of
my old age
where lessons learned
make a pathway for You
Amen copyright L. Ivison 2025
they think it is still summer
with this sunny day and
bucket, sea and sand
they picnic, walk torso nu
down the hot streets
fishing nets in hand,
but I know that these black shadows
that cross my path, that bramble
stretching its reddened hands,
that plum tree dripping heavy fruit
that summer is past.
solstice now 2 months gone
swallows sing their last song
a butterfly flaps lazily
dupped by nectar as the honey bee
all nature poised on this yearly cusp
to plunge us into dark cold nights
if we stopped and thought at all
we'd knowthe cuckoo no longer calls
nights stay only til 9 oclock
and morning light reluctantly crawls
from its bed and climbs the sky
fooling us with its still hot rays
that these are still but summer days.
Amen Copyright L. Ivison
16 august 2025
ten extra minutes You were there Lord
tourists tread these stones
which have heard a thousand years of prayer
and today You are still with us
present, silent, crowned in glory
there on the altar.
in the corner a young priest sits
one or two stare at you
others tourists do not know
that they are treading on holy ground
in Your presence
they are awed but not by You
by the ancient stone, carvings
eaten by salty air these thousand years.
but You crept into my heart Lord
I was here 20 years ago and
sheltered here little knowing
that You had seen my sorrowful heart
which You turned through these years
into a joyful one.
Leaving I come into August's heat
the market, crowed , milling,
loud music.
if only they knew that a great King
was waiting for them.
few will hear His call
because it is silent.
Amen
18 august 9,20
what joy you give me sweet gulls
there perched on two chimney pots
finished the day gliding over
summer seas, dipping into waters
swooping over fishing boats.
now, in this still evening
no clouds, no breeze,
you preen feathers before
you sleep,
you do not know i am watching you
and cannot see me
but i share this short moment
before night falls and
we both sleep.
copyright 2025
