Scenes Along a Country Road, Late Summer

Just look! The trees, brazen 

with summer’s lovemaking. Entirely 

unabashed. And the cabbage. The cabbage! 

Voluptuous wave on voluptuous wave.  

And across the field, a ghost ship of a barn, 

so derelict, so lopsided by time it should by now 

have capsized & sunk, instead seems to 

float on those brassica breakers, all the late-season purples 

billowing its stubborn hull toward me, another age’s 

relic, like the face of someone who 

loved me once, here again 

to remind me 

how green I was

& tender 

as a late-planted seedling 

striving toward the August sun,

believing the splendor would last.

ELIZABETH JOHNSTON AMBROSE’s writing appears in The Atlantic, Rattle, McSweeney’s, Emrys, and the collection Nasty Women Poets, among others. Read more.

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To the Log Partially Submerged at Copperas Pond