VALERIE WORTH POEMS ABOUT SUMMER THINGS

fresh Chilton County peaches!

july

The heat
Bloomed with
Damp, tacky
To the touch,

Like petunia
Stems, or the
Nap on a
Ripe peach.

- Valerie Worth

Okay, this poem: who knows what petunia stems feel like, and who puts that in a poem?! Awesome. I DO have lots of of experience with peaches. I am, in fact, a Georgia peach myself, having been born in Georgia. And it's one of my favorite fruits. I remember my grandfather who lived in north Florida would drive over to Georgia several times during peach season and bring home a truckload of u-pick peaches -- usually Alberta and O'Henry varieties. He then sold the peaches to the local grocery store...and we all feasted.

crickets

Crickets
Talk
In the tall
Grass
All
Late summer
Long.
When
Summer
Is gone,
The dry
Grass
Whispers
Alone.

- Valerie Worth

When I think of summer, two of the first things that come to mind are fireflies and crickets. There's something magical about cricket-song... how you can be alone and yet feel as if in the company of some great benevolent spirit. And they are great to fish with, too. :) (sorry, crickets!)

porches

On the front porch
Chairs sit still;

The table will receive
summer drinks;

They wait, arranged,
Strange and polite.

On the back porch
Garden tools spill;

An empty basket
Leans to one side;

The watering can
Rusts among friends.

- Valerie Worth

Sometimes Paul and I like to watch those house hunter shows -- I find them just stimulating enough to keep my attention yet there's nothing in them to raise my blood pressure. On one of the shows recently, a young woman was searching for her first house, and the one thing on her "no" list was a porch. She said it made a house look "country." I guess I'm a little bit country because I love a porch! Especially those old-style painted concrete ones with cool steps to sit on. Here's a pic of part of the mural in my dining room. Look: a porch!

lawnmower

The lawnmower
Grinds its teeth
Over the grass,
Spitting out a thick
Green spray;

its head is too full
Of iron and oil
to know
What it throws
Away;

The lawn's whole
Crop of chopped
Soft,
Delicious
Green hay.

- Valerie Worth

One of the empowering moments of my childhood was the first time my 17-months-older-than-me brother turned the lawnmower over to ME, little barefoot sis who wanted to experience the vibration of the handle. I didn't even care that he was the one who got the credit for mowing... I knew what I had done.

fireworks

First
A far thud,
Then the rocket
Climbs the air,
A dull red flare,
To hang, a moment,
invisible, before
Its shut lack shell cracks
And claps against the ears,
Breaks and billows into bloom,
Spilling down clear green sparks, gold spears,
Silent sliding silver waterfalls and stars.

- Valerie Worth

I'm not a fan of fireworks. While I can appreciate their visual beauty, I don't enjoy the noise. I'm pretty sure this is an "introverted" thing. I'm sure we will be hearing more fireworks in our neighborhood all this weekend. I'd rather just read this poem. :)

flies

Flies wear
Their bones
On the outside.

Some show dead
Gray, as bones
Should seem,

But others gleam
Dark blue, or bright
Metal-green,

Or a polished
Copper, mirroring
The sun:

If all bones
Shone so, I
Wouldn't mind

Going around
in my own
skeleton.

- Valerie Worth

"Flies wear/ Their bones/ On the outside." Brilliant! Put a positive spin on a pesky little devil, now there's a poetic trick we should all try. This poem makes me want to write a "Flyswatter" poem. I think I will. Happy summer, everyone! I leave you with a pic of my dear friend Pat showing off how she caught a fly with her fingers. :)

Be sure to visit Keri at Keri Recommends for her very first Poetry Friday Roundup! Also, if you are interested in more Valerie Worth, see the top left sidebar for links on previous posts in this series. Happy day!