“I wish I understood the beauty
~David Ignatow
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…
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
to
deadlines, alarm clocks, and appointments,
the sun dropping in the sky
night fall
from our nascent waters
to the certain ending
of every
incarnation
even summers such as this
even
lives such as ours
This Vermont Life 