Late Summer

Traces of heat make my clothes sticky
A last desperate attempt of summer
Before gossamer
Chases the cobwebs
Like brooms made of lace
Swiping away dust and dry leaves
The debris of a summer well lived
Trauma Poetry and Poems about Love and Life
Traces of heat make my clothes sticky
A last desperate attempt of summer
Before gossamer
Chases the cobwebs
Like brooms made of lace
Swiping away dust and dry leaves
The debris of a summer well lived
I didn’t know how beautiful the mountains were
On whose feet I spend the night
Only now–looking from afar
Can I see their height
Can I see their beauty
That’s life so often
We are too close
To see the bigger picture
Only visible from a distance
So be gentle with yourself
Your decisions can only be based
On what you know at the time
That small piece you can see
Right there
Right then
No regrets!
Only the way forward
Your life is now
Not then
A kaleidoscope of cascading ridges
As above
So below
An imperceptible breeze
Gently moves the silvery surface
Ever so slightly distorting the twinning hills
A liquid mirage
It is late August
So late the woods smell of autumn
Mother pine is our host today
The tend pitched within her embracing roots
Clinging to the shoreline
I feel salvaged anyway
The sap moves tangibly below my sleeping matt
Branches above shelter from immediate sun or rain
The moon hangs like a windchime between two pine trunks
Despite the morning light
Tranquility distracts me for a moment
From all the things I should be doing instead
Again this one does not quite fit yet.
Discarded wet suits
Drying in the breeze
A sad looking bag of charcoal
Crunched up
Holding the potential for one more BBQ
But not here
Not now
Not on this holiday
ANYMORE
Sadness creeps up
The simple life
Of our ever-so-slightly moving abode
Will soon be packed away
For another summer
August has just begun
But for us the summer is over
100s of emails looming
I have 48 hours leeway
And mentally push
Against the tidal amplitude of work-life
I love my work
But the constant pressure
Like currents in the sea
I have rowed against
Had become too much
I hope my learning
Will last and like my kayak
I will only put the paddle into the water to steer into the right direction
Occasionally
And not dispense all my energy rowing against the swell
I won’t fight
Against the tide
Anymore
Wide skies
Wide horizons
An eagle hovers
Empty your mind let your thoughts move through
Normally I struggle
But
Here
I can’t hold on
To a thought
To a worry
To a contemplation
Clouds move over
Every changing
Like my relentless thoughts usually do
Occasionally the clouds become stuck
Hovering over the valley between the mountains
Like the thoughts I should let go
Eventually the wind moves them on
The hazy evening–a blue hues filter
In front of the mountains
The Atlantic bay I am sitting in
Pushes gentle waves ashore
The evening sun tries to break through the haze
I can feel spots of warmth on my skin
The vertical furrow between my eyes
Permanently edged in from squinting in the light
The evening settles in quietly
The weather is merciless
Our tent howls and tries to take off like a chained dragon
The noise of the storm is incredible
A rock concert of sorts
Naughty by nature
Everything moves
Even the athletic swifts have no chance and sit exhausted on a fencepost
The guiding lines vibrate with tension
Or maybe they are shivering in the relentless rain?
Our name sign is tagged into a wooden pool
the place number long gone
36
Thousands of wild flowers dance in rhythm of the gusts
A seagull is blown past the tent
She barely manages to stabilise
Summer in Scotland
I wear my woolly hat
And socks mum knitted for me
As I take in deep breaths of salty air
And listen to the deafening production
Where my road will lead
I know not
Where your road will lead
You know not
But I know for sure
That for now
We walk together
Everybody is alone onto themselves
That’s the dichotomy of being
We are social but nobody truly knows the other
All we negotiate is a common story