August

The drying sunflowers in the vase,
The flies lazing around the fan,
The hay bales being brought into the barn.
Grandma’s apple pies filling the house.
Men in the golden fields call to each other.
A dog barks lazily,
awakened from his nap as a chestnut horse
trots by.

End of August.
My sister brings water,
cool and sweet, like a new spring
into the white farmhouse.
Vegetables in the cool brown earth
ready to rise from it.
Cow tails swish pesky flies away.
The hot tin roof glints in the sunlight.

The tall hay bales wait.
I climb to the top and look at the sky.
The lazy sun winks down at me.
I feel so small
A pin in the hay bale, impossible to find.

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Tyler Lehman, age 15
San Francisco, California
Lowell High School
Teacher Staci Carney/Susan Terence (Calif. Poets in the Schools)