Elegy on August Sunday

For A.

It’s Sunday morning
and speechless
apart from the dog

I already took on a
walk and reprimanded
to speed up a few times

While I felt free
to stop here and there
to pick the ripest berries

To get account
balances I drove
to the nearest town

along the river
that has the right
machine

Along factories
and quais with cranes,
scrap and coal

Turning into main
streets with grey
apartment buildings,

windows open
in hopes of ventilation,
grimy curtains immobile

Thinking of you
who have taken off
to places unknown

for a weekend
from the jumble
of your tiny place

in the orange house
on the hill – it’s
an elegy all right

– James Steerforth ( © 2008 )

Written for myself – and A. – after seeing advertisements for the movie Elegy based on a novel by Philip Roth. Looking at Totally Optional Prompts, I found that it fits there quite well; after all, elegies are about something lost.

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About James Steerforth

I am an author of poetry and fiction, translator and painter who loves to have fun with borrowed feathers.
This entry was posted in Bland observations, Creative writing, Film, Life, Literature, Movies, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Elegy on August Sunday

  1. suburbanlife says:

    This is wonderful -conveys the ordinary everyday-ness of loss, and is the more moving for this. G

  2. Ah…the quiet pain of a Sunday morning alone. Running errands or taking a walk can sometimes be so depressing when soaked in loss. Very nicely done.

    –DHS

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