August Sounds
A best thing about summer
is having the windows open,
hearing the outside in every room,
breezes lightly wafting
or humidity heavily settling.
Everything feels connected;
birds, stars, crickets, and moon
Just when I’ve grown accustomed to the
sounds, no longer note sunset traffic
leaving the beach, morning bicycle riders
speaking in loud voices, or wild turkey
clucking on the wall, my aural world abruptly
changed.
Today the Obamas arrived here to vacation!
David and I, descending the steps
to our driveway, were met
by a cavalcade of black SUVs,
ambulances and press cars, sandwiched
between four state troopers hunched
on motorcycles, roaring up North Road.
At the bottom of the stairs,
the motorcade was close but never slowed.
Heavily tinted closed windows hid who was
inside. I could not stop myself from waving
and giving them a thumbs up, overcome
with excitement, embarrassment and pride
in my old tee shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.
David stayed behind in the shade, shirtless,
arms crossed over his bare chest
respectful to the First Family
catching him in his Saturday best.
Now the procession of Presidential cars
always alerts my ear.
I feel the pace of their comings and goings
in a subconscious rhythm that seems
a part of summer sound in August
again this year. President Obama, Michelle,
Sasha, and Malia speeding past my house —
could it ever be routine?
My deepest self worries while they are here.
My stomach flutters at a siren’s sound.
The Vineyard seems too open
and vulnerable. Too many places
not to be found.
Here to escape Presidential reality
amid trees, meadows, ocean, free time.
A paradise protected from global strife;
an oyster containing a precious pearl.
Not at all like my life where having
the windows open is enough
to connect me to the outside world.
Margaret Emerson
Since retiring as a professor of nursing at Northeastern University, Margaret lives in Chilmark where she pursues her passion for painting and poetry.
