Michael Stutz
Midsummer Threnody

Wide winds. Raging,
distant winds—it's all
an augury of some mythic
and soon-to-be
                                 September wind.

        *      *      *

The earth spun swiftly
and here midsummer's
point has come, that one
moment where beyond

is only golden
mellow light, a soft
glimmer and the sulk
of summer-almost-gone:

The fat cicada
perches on the step,
brow raised,
                            wings combed back,
a soldier in his dawn.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #5: Summer 2018, Volume 3 Number 1