Not to Mention Cicadas


So I sit to write this thing,
determined not to mention cicadas or herons;
no talk of the willows weeping
softly in the background.

Should I bring up the low,
grey clouds , I wonder — 
the blue skiff, unmanned,
drifting downstream?

I certainly don’t feel it would be appropriate
to mention the two cows,
the brown and white cows,
up to their pink udders in the river.

Would it be o.k. to say that it’s late August
and to say how nice it is that the sun’s not shining?
Can I tell you how soft the air is today?
Will you understand?

I shouldn’t need to say that I’m waiting
for someone — don’t have to tell you
that she’s beautiful and that this greenery
will compliment the blush of her cheeks.

Maybe I could say that the cicadas are quiet
for the first time in a month.
Maybe I could say that there are night herons
in the willows.