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Here is the poem: August

Read it, then come back...

I am generally not drawn in to poems that start with birds and backyards. Of course there are plenty of exceptions, and I was giving this poem a chance despite regretting the bird feeder but this didn’t become one of them. There are a couple strong moments, like the “sear of August has crusted..” and the geometry simile. It’s certainly not a bad poem; it’s sad and meditative, but it doesn’t click for me in any remarkable way. It’s steady when I want electric. It goes on when I think the point is made. There’s nothing wrong with coming full circle in a poem, it can work great, but in this case it strikes me as predictable.