Waxing Moon and Summer’s Farewell

Waxing Moon and Summer’s Farewell

How swiftly the season turns:
moment passes by another moment
as in my elusive nighttime dreams,
all the while the ardor for life abides
though cooler breezes quench
the noonday fires —

I hear summer’s last melodies
edged with change
cedar waxwings whistle among the birches,
the meadow edge
hums with crickets and katydids,
mourning doves croon their yearning calls
into the twilight air —

evening approaches:
a waxing half moon sheds silver threads
upon the garden fronds,
forest trees cast blurred shadows,
open fields lie platinum pale
half radiant, half shrouded,
inlet waters quietly flow
into their appointed oceans
in albescent half-light —

last day of August
I stand at the precipice of summer’s departure
on a quarter moon evening,
revealing yet secretive
of what approaching Autumn holds.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by W.carter, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

The Fire of Your Fingertips

The Fire of Your Fingertips

I will not take this warmth for granted
as I behold the fire
of your fingertips,
woodwinds of your voice
carried by soft breezes —

tomorrow holds a sheet of white:
leafless branches
in the wintry blizzard winds,
little do I know
if you will be beside me still —

I will not take this warmth for granted
as I behold the fire
of your fingertips.

D. G. Vachal © 2025



Image by Stux@pixabay

A Summer Remembrance

A Summer Remembrance

at the end of daytime fever
I hear the thunder
rumbling in the distance
a forgotten song from long ago —

is it you, my lost love,
your beloved voice
resonant
in the clouds,
a lament of lavender longing
and the firefly lightnings —

did you come to let me know
infinitely far from the miles of sky
that you remember my smile,
and how life would have been
filled with flowers
if we walked hand in hand
in the summer rain,
just you and I  —

now comes the twilight,
the rumbling thunder fades
into a sigh
and I walk in my garden
alone
with this poignant longing
of holding your hand.

D. G. Vachal (c) 2025

Image by Geronimo Giquea @Unsplash

The Warmth of Summer Rain

featured in my poetry book “Where Love Dwells”, one of my favorite poems.

The Warmth of Summer Rain

I walk
barefoot
upon the springtime grass,
moss and lichen,
I am

flesh and bone
upon the cobblestones,
smoldering coals
upon melting snow,
I await

the warmth of summer rain
flowing
into ebony bowls of loam
where barks of lilacs come to rest
from their blooming,
they smile
at the dance of lilies —

I have traveled the continents
of the years,
countries of the seasons
under the opiate canopy
of space and time —

The years tell stories
upon the lecterns
of my face,
still
I am

younger than my days,
I carry the heart of a little child,
my tiny feet frolic
in the white linen warmth
of  summer rain.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013, 2025

*** Image by Chulmin1700@pixabay

Twilight


Twilight

Miles have I traveled this dusty road,
my feet throb from the journey’s pain   
as miniscule pebbles gather in my shoes,
and slowing down I think upon you
these ardent summer moments —

Will I ever find you again
if I retrace my steps,
remember the words I uttered
when you were by my side —

I only know that if I turn back,
the feeble light will fade
and soon
the darkness will engulf me.

I keep on walking,
closer, closer towards the golden sky  
that sings a sentimental melody
and for a fleeting moment I close my eyes —

I see your smile
then I know
you are beside me still.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by J Plenio @ pixabay