summer

the secret hidden

close your eyes
so you don’t see
the browning leaves
or the yellow ones
that have fallen

and

cover your ears
so you don’t hear
the dry grass
or the leaves crunch
beneath your feet

and

ignore the scents
of the pumpkins
and spice
that sing of
the last days of harvest

and

feel the warmth
of another summer day
that burns the skin
and brings forth sweat
so late in its glory

and

dream again
of all that is possible
and what you can do
and who you can love
in this gift of a day

and

think little
of the secret
hidden in the breeze
from the mountains
which portends the future

and

worry not
of the chill that will be
or the winds that will howl
for today it is warm
and that is enough

This must be what it was like back then.

When windows were always open.

We’ve been without air conditioning for a few days now.

I’m sitting in my room trying to write with the window open.

Every car that goes by grabs my attention.

Across the street, kids are playing.

A train blows its whistle and heads for the tunnel.

The cicadas buzz in their pulsing rhythm.

A cool breeze blows across my feet.

My keyboard is different, but it’s a keyboard.

This must be what it was like back then.