Hope Coulter

How To Make the Most of the Last Hours of Summer
Under the Willows, by John Singer Sargent (United States) 1887

First get hold of a boat, one you can handle
yourself. Drag it scraping through mud and weeds

as frogs jump aside and the funk of the rich sweet muck
fills your nostrils. Scoot the punt out from the bank

till the free water catches it. Don’t mind the squelch,
your shoes will dry: just hoist your skirts, give a push

and swing yourself in. Feel how you’re water-borne now,
a regular Cleopatra! enthroned with a dragonfly

as your lord attendant, and flicked beads of water
for jewels. Lie back. Here’s a cushion—better?

It’s soft, it pillows your head, and if the willow fronds
don’t quite screen the sun, tip your hat down

over your face. Breathe its sweet straw and the scent
of your sweat, while the summer brilliance

comes checkering through its weave
as it does through the leaves above.

Let go. Give your gravity to the water
that holds you up from way deep. The dense shade,

the mundane trunks of the trees, your troubles
and chores: you can let them recede,

let them fall away. All is glaze now and wetness,
green-gilded reflection, air as warm as your skin,

a floating and slipping and drowse. Even the current
that laps at the hull sounds lazy, like the one bird

somewhere in the leaves overhead, that calls Here am I,
over and over—Here am I, it says. Where are you?

Hope Coulter teaches and directs the Hendrix-Murphy Foundation Programs in Literature and Language at Hendrix College. She is the author of The Wheel of Light (BrickHouse Books 2015), and her work has appeared in numerous journals, including The Yale Review, Southwest Review, and Literary Matters. Awards for her writing include a 2022 Meringoff Award in poetry, the Porter Prize for Literary Excellence, and five Pushcart nominations. She lives in Little Rock.