August 
One might think Rothko 
with his many studies of orange,
orange red- and orange with ochre
was an August baby,
August being the northern hemisphere’s
most sun filled month.
In August, air itself is heated 
to the point of flame
doused in the south by a hearty 
helping of humidity.
I believe he fell in love
with August and painted its
intense warmth
over and over, as fascinated 
with the sun’s heat as Monet was 
with sun’s light and shadow.
Rothko shaped August’s
uncontrollable, heat into 
rectangles, pools of warmth,
boundaried spaces,
so we can safely dip our minds into them
claiming a searing sort of respite, 
finding an urge to creativity 
in the endless heat bearing down on us.
 
One summer afternoon when my
daughter was three we ambled 
about the air-conditioned galleries
of the Corcoran and Phillips museums.
Jennie was indifferent to much 
in the modern rooms, but she pointed to an
Orange -Red Rothko and announced
“Heat.”
So began my obsession with Rothko.
After all, who better would know
heat than a child born 
on a 103 degree (F) day in
August
                        

I am charmed by 
how the three, 
Zeta, Epsilon, and Delta,
together show the way to 
other more elaborate 
star constructions,
how it holds Orion’s parts
together, gives his 
weapons a resting place.
I often reached for it,
hoping to wind its power
around my own waist 
to point me in a new, direction
to hold my weapons, to keep
my inner and outer selves together.