In a summer of prolonged heat, solar flares, and an auspicious parade of planets

In a summer of prolonged heat, solar flares,
and an auspicious parade of planets

we bank kilowatts—
hang footies, tees, and trou
to bake on the zig-zag of line
out the back door.

Bark of the madrona shrinks,
curls, splits from the trunk,
casts its outer skin to the deck
in hunks of leather the size of pages.

We regather our scant layers of summer
into the laundry basket, cottons sun-fresh
and crease-free. Each item, a sun poem
I fold to fit in a drawer.

The disheveled madrona scrolls skitter
across the patio in unread signatures
no clay artist could replicate
nor poet decipher. It is enough

to be sun-soaked and stripped bare
of story and illusion.
Some poems keep their secrets.
Some poems hold the light.

—Rachel A. Barton

About the Author

Rachel A. Barton is a poet and editor who resides in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Her work explores landscape, memory, and the subtle forces that shape human experience. She is the author of several collections and served as the longtime editor of Willawaw Journal, where she helped foster connection among emerging and established writers alike.