Category: Summer Serenade

One by one, the leaves decide.
Who will go first? Who will hang on?
Who will be the last to go?
Already there were some who could not resist
the chance to fly, to ride the wind,
to be free of any restraint, to sail birdlike
on the wings of air. Most waited,
savoring the familiar view, savoring
its changes. There was no right or wrong.
Time would tell them when to fly.
And time, the creek told them,
has a way of doing things
in exactly the right order.

Now come the golden days,
mornings filled with fog,
nights where cricket song
floats through crisp, cool air.
On the roads, yellow buses roll
past once more with laughing children
peering from their windows.
Goldenrod fills the meadow;
wild sunflowers line the creeks.
In the fields, beans, corn, pumpkins
and squash race toward their fruition.
And the fragrance and feel of it all wakes us,
and we turn the calendar’s page.

Let the nights grow longer.
Still, we will hold the sun.
Let the fierce winds blow
and the rains fall.
Usher in the cold.
We will hold the sun.
In memory of sweet summer,
until our days are done,
for the sake of your joy,
we will shine on,
beaming the glorious sun.

You never know when you set out
what your journey will bring.
Anything you can imagine
is possible, and then some.
It’s all a gift, you know,
a chance for you to explore
your choices, to decide who
you will be, and to discover
what you’re made of.
Hold onto your hope and
keep your faith, remembering
that, regardless, light shines
at the end of the road.

In days of sunshine and those
of trial, whether by happenstance
or choice, life sends us the gift
of companions for our journey,
spirits to walk beside us, to share
our laughter and our tears,
our stories and our silences.
Some stay only for moments,
bringing a word, a look, a smile.
Some come, then go, then reappear.
Some walk beside us for long miles,
for lifetimes, and maybe more.
Love, after all, never dies.
And it is Love that sends them,
these companions, that each of us
may know that we are never truly alone.

Here’s where the deer lie,
sheltered by sycamores,
cooled by the green leaves
of tall wild sunflowers,
the sun filtering down
to kiss their pelts with warmth.
This is the place they dream of
in winter, the place they sing of
in lullabies to newborn fawns
in early spring when they
lick their soft hair and promise
them tomorrows filled
with flowers and sunshine.

The Yes sends its blessings through corridors of light
and they fall, ever so silently, on the heart’s soft ground.

Walk gently, dear child, and feel your heart respond.
Feel it rising in hope and renewal. Feel it leaping with joy.

Even when you walk through thick forests of doubt,
the light will find you. It knows your name;
it gave birth to your soul.

Walk in peace, my child.
You are known, and seen, and loved.

From out of the darkness
the gold bursts forth in
fiery, rayed blossoms
that sing of the power
of the sun, blazing life,
brimming with joy,
dancing to the song
of the ever-burgeoning Yes.
Away with your dreams
of barren endings. This Now,
bathed in late-summer perfume,
abuzz with bees, is all there is,
and its sun will travel with you
into all of your tomorrows.

Deep in the woods, the vines
turn crimson. But the river
still holds summer’s green
with its pungent scent
and its emerald flowing
and its warm and peaceful
song. Here, flowers still blossom
along the banks, the bees still
float from bloom to bloom.
And we pull it all inside us,
to keep, forever, this sweet
incomparable green.

She mixes up some pails of color
and hands them to the elves.
September is less than ten days away.
Let’s give the red and the yellow a whirl.
and see how they look in the sun.
Let’s see how they mix, how they blend.
Don’t go crazy now; just do
this one tree—this one, where few
will notice. Try a few patterns,
some speckles, some stripes.
Leave a touch of green here and there.
That’s it. Good job. What do you think?
Are we ready to go? Let’s start
with the sumac and vines, okay?