To whom. are we beautiful. as we go?

To whom. are we beautiful. as we go?

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“I wish I understood the beauty

in leaves falling. To whom
are we beautiful
as we go?
I lie in the field
still, absorbing the stars
and silently throwing off
their presence. Silently
I breathe and die
by turns.
He was ripe
and fell to the ground
from a bough
out where the wind
is free
of the branches

~David Ignatow

Summer’s Passing

Summer’s Passing

3 Generations of the MacArthur Family

Once a year they come together
To say farewell to summer
The farmers and the teachers
The musicians and the healers.

They pretend it’s a celebration
Like some funerals are said to be
But those of us on this side of 50, know
That life is less a gathering, and more a letting go.

Only moments like this still into perfection
A constellation of MacArthurs brightens into view
Jason in the field
Robin beside the boys
John under the tent…
First his wife, then his children,
and now the grandchildren and great-grandchildren center stage.

The sound of their voices stirs a longing inside for all things eternal
The nursing mother
The father and son embrace
The nail pounding contest
The tea tent
Megan’s fair song.

As Dan’s familiar voice addresses the crowd
I feel a pang inside
For the preciousness of all things yet to pass.

Like these lasts drops of summer

With the poet’s words echoing in the fading light… 

I wish I understood the beauty
in leaves falling. To whom
are we beautiful as we go?

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Community Tug of War
Community Tug of War, 33rd Annual Marlboro Fair
What a difference a day makes…

What a difference a day makes…

the summer refugees
stream in somber procession
off the wild coasts of the Atlantic
into tunnels and across bridges
that deliver them into the straight lines of September

from salty sprays to the cubicles of stale air

from lobster rolls to peanut butter & jelly sandwiches

from flip flops
to the confine of safely-covered toes

from open-ended, day-upon-day,
endless nights,
afternoons within afternoons
deadlines, alarm clocks, and appointments,
the sun dropping in the sky
night fall

from our nascent waters
to the certain ending
of every
even summers such as this

lives such as ours

Kelly Salasin, September 2015
Kelly Salasin, September 2015