Summer is Almost Here
Why does summer hold so much expectation? Why does it melt, and take away all the stiff, harsh layers of winter with only one touch of its warm breeze? In summer, I can run free with bare feet and hair flying in braids. Fireflies circle through all the wild grass, and the whole earth buzzes; the locust; the cicada; the infant birds up in a nest; the frogs out in the ditch. Summer smiles down at me and begs for my release, so that there is no past between us, only now, with the clouds, and the coneflower and its buzzing bumblebee. Purple and gold; sweet and sting. Somewhere in the distance, a train rumbles by and I listen. Listen. Listen.