.AUGUST, CHAMPAIGN COUNTY.

That flash of shadow is a hawk above the prairie.
Whatever is small scatters to the poplar grove.
Only the brave stand alone out there to mourn
like the wolf tree centered in a field of corn.

By the rails, Queen Anne's lace balances in the heat.
Silos and the slant of barns are silver on the land.
Frame houses hold the gingham of give and take.
A heart must root somewhere even if it breaks.

This, reader, may be new to you, how the blond
corn sacrifices to the harvest, or how on the prairie
you see a man coming from far off with his burden.
Then, young men stoop to take it up all of a sudden.

Where are the once clear eyes, the shining hair,
the hand in yours after work? They are far away,
too, like islands floating in a sea of forgetfulness,
or the glow of telltale fires in an ancient wilderness.

A man whistles as he paints his girl friend's porch.
Beyond the gate verdant fields repose like shrouds.
Maple leaves rustle, whither and then blow away.
Summer moves to fall with its memorial of clouds.

Bob Engler