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.
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