When the night sky gazes
more brightly than the trees,
peeping out from behind
in a vivid blue harmony against
the dark cover, I know . . .
it is the twilight of summer.
Many believe that summer comes
with the first dawn, but I . . .
I hear it’s first whisper
in the silence of night
the stillness before the birth.
In this certain twilight, I hunger
for more of what the dawn will bring.
Glistening pearls of morning
winking out at me from a rose’s fair petal.
Starving winds that rush hungrily over
a soft, green meadow.
Sheer radiance of the summer sky’s door,
reaching stunning arms of light through
every waving branch in it’s path.
Every wisp of cloud, torn apart
by its sudden rapture,
bowing to it’s awesome beauty.
The scented wind that dances above me,
like breathing. I sigh at its sweetness,
it’s purity, unblemished.
How easy is summer, as it
slowly drifts into being.
The embrace of colors in every corner.
The symbols of summer are everywhere.
Greens and golds and lovely azure—
so sweet we can taste it.
Mauve that impales a casual glance.
All shades of lilac trembling, like a whisper
upon thin, green stalks.
Stunning yellows that frolic in
a pasture of jade, so bold.
Brilliant, red phosphorous shouting
to be seen.
And the orange, like millions of
broken sunsets, burning out from the shade.
And the birds—oh—to be set free on the wind!
Soft songs in the air we seldom take time to hear.
What glorious meter!
What touching melodies they play
To sing to our starved ears.
Never will I take for granted your annual return.
How I longed for the sight of you . . .
through the ice and storms.
You’ve come in all your splendor,
just as promised.
Yet, too soon, we forget this rapturous feeling—
parting lips to complain, with
sweated brow and fast-beating heart,
in the hanging heat many anxiously await
your alternate expression of dusk.
Though, not I.
Shine on, summer, shine on!
And forever sing me your beloved daylight song.