The August Lion

The August Lion By: J. Philip Harris In the area of the afternoon, right before the stars Where the little gray strands spread out among the coffee roots Through the looking glass Beyond the esotropic eyes In the land of the chevron lane and the laughter of the silly school boy In the heart of a sawbones' hands Beyond the reaches of the retentive shadows Where the hiccups of life have sought to crush his spirit In the echoes of his father’s soul Through the reflection of his mother’s love Like a break-loose dance of life’s unbinding freedom to feel and to breathe. Here in the whisper Hear the gentle purrs thrown out into the void Like diamond lights in the dark matter Here, the hero. Hear the August Lion.