This last year I discovered the poet Jane Kenyan. I decided to take bits and pieces of a poem about August I had been playing with and rewrite it in the style of Jane Kenyan’s poem “Let Evening Come”.
I learn so much by doing this exercise and I like how her style captures my memories of Woodrat Mountain Rd.
For over 30 years I lived in the second house on the left past Woodrat Mountain Rd. Woodrat was a dirt road that eventually led to the paragliding and hang-gliding launch. Mostly though I used it as a place to walk the dogs.
I guess I have this thing for August. It’s like life winding down before winter. Nature just seems tired and struggles to just stay alive. My Dad died on August 16, 1968, and maybe that is why August means death to me.
And death is part of life so I just let August be.
Once again I am asking you if you like my poem to please vote it up on: