Twelfth July Blog


Twelfth July Blog

Sqeezing a last one under the wire.

Creeping Mellow.

The sky is turning
That autumnal shade of blue.
Not everyone notices,
Until too late,
That summer is waning,
Its intensity diminished.
Fledglings, who have fluttered
Untried wings, danced
On the breezes of life,
Are now soaring in
The sky, ready to fly
From nest to maturity.
Swallows sense the season
Change, Africa awaits.
Corn stooks stand immobile
In a sea of yellow.
Harvest approaches,
Praying the sun will
Stay awhile, can be gathered.
Nuts ripen on bushes,
The squirrel feasts,
Stores, keeps, ready
For winter’s pall.
Pumpkins ripen,
Orange Mellowness,
Round, Misshapen,
Flattened, all standing
Waiting, almost ready
For Halloween. But
Not quite there yet.
August, when children
Holiday, play, before
The new term begins.
Then, we can say,
The season has altered,
Changed from intense
Heat to golden brown.
The days shorten,
Life snuggies down
As winter approaches.

Copyright Evelyn J. Stewar. July, 2015.

Those who live in countries where there are seasons, know. They know the ripening of days; they know the precise moment of the first drop of spring melt. They know, by the wind, the rise of the sun, the colour of the sky, and more.

An uncanny sense that tellsm them….. something is different, maybe? But all the same, they know. Often it is a combination of weather, colour, temperature and other tiny things that many do not see, do not recognise. But all the same, they are there, staring you in the face, if only you have eyes to see.

Some people, I admit, go about their daily business. Their minds too full of their job, the children, their family. And such people might not even recognise those insignifcant little details that announce the coming of change.

Perhaps the human race has gone too far away from its original ways. We have lost that telltale information, basiclly the ability to read the signs. Maybe, most will nevet get it back? Who can tell?

Talking to a friend, she said there were chidren who were being sent to boot camps to wean them off of computer games. Raw, vivid, graphically violent games. These will never learn to read Nature’s signals. But what if more become like this? There are inherent needs that only reading Nature can teach. Maybe bring about a downfall of the human condition. I wonder!

This is July’s end, the seventh month in the Western Calender.
Be aafe, take care.


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