To my heart’s delight, as I was ruffling through drawers cleaning out for an upcoming garage sale, I found this treasure. Tucked neatly inside my nightstand drawer, was a book of poetry that belonged to my grandfather. The book from 1955 entitled Hilltop Verses and Prayers, has his name scratched on the inside cover and this precious extra bonus poem taped inside it by Grace S Douglas.
Read it once and let the words soak over you. I am not a natural lover of poetry, but my grandfather was. I have learned to appreciate the rhythm and cadence. This poem was a sweet reminder to me today of the hope of seasons changing.
Poets never sing of August.
How could they without knowing of summer-fallen apples
Or brooks’ diminished flowing?
How could they guess until they brought
Cows home for early milking
That half-grown quail run down long rows
Where tasselled corn is silking?
For June is green with promises;
July is pulsed to heat;
And when September harvests come, Fulfillment is complete.
But August gives a breathing-spell
Between baled hay and corn
For dreaming amaryllis dreams
Where next year’s hopes are born.
–Grace S. Douglas
The word August has several meanings that I’d like to uncover here that immediately spoke to me in this poem. It means not only nobility, majesty but also to be worthy of reverence and commanding respect. But here is one final meaning I want you to hold onto: to increase or “that which is increased”.
How many of you are desperate for a change of season? How many are absolutely beyond ready for a corner to turn?
How many are ready for an increase? An increase of health? An increase of healing? An increase of prosperity and provision? An increase of strength? An increase of blessings?
How many would welcome a flourishing August? An August that contains an increase?
God is deliverer of august and of August. He is the one who delivers us each year through each earthly season of winter, spring, summer or fall. He is the giver of harvest, rain and plenty. He is majestic, mighty. He commands respect, deserves our reverence. He keeps His promises. He is able. He can be trusted to provide your increase.
Look at the last two lines.
For dreaming amaryllis dreams, where next year’s hopes are born.
Have you ever watched and waited for an amaryllis to bloom? It is in the waiting that beauty grows. It is in the waiting that HOPE is born for the coming season. Don’t stop hoping for the season to turn. Keep looking forward, keep hoping for the increase. It will come and it will bloom.
It will be beautiful.
Now read over the poem just once more thinking of the promise of august and the hope that can bloom in anticipation. The poem says that August provides the rest before the harvest, before “fulfillment is complete”.
Poets never sing of August.
How could they without knowing of summer-fallen apples
Or brooks’ diminished flowing?
How could they guess until they brought
Cows home for early milking
That half-grown quail run down long rows
Where tasselled corn is silking?
For June is green with promises;
July is pulsed to heat;
And when September harvests come, Fulfillment is complete.
But August gives a breathing-spell
Between baled hay and corn
For dreaming amaryllis dreams
Where next year’s hopes are born.
–Grace S. Douglas
Blessings and healing,
Janice Fairbairn – The Lyme Evangelist
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