Category: Summer Serenade

When the flicker of orange
caught my eye, I gasped.
A butterfly! It’s only the third
that I’ve seen here this summer.
Maybe it wasn’t a butterfly at all,
but an Angel of Hope with sky on its wings
Delighted at the thought, I whispered,
“Thank you, amber angel. May you fly long.
May you thrive.”

You simply leave me speechless.
All I can do is stare, my mouth agape
in wonder, my breath tasting of awe.
Unasked, you appear, sprung from
mere ground, and opening your petals
to the morning sun, astound me.

Summer pulls August over the horizon,
its greens lush and steamy beneath
liquid skies that smell of coming rain.
But a white sun still blazes above
igniting the meadow’s deep weeds,
making the shade trees into gods
under whose spreading arms
rabbits take refuge and nibble
the sweet summer grass

Be who you are, and sing it boldly.
Trumpet your song–
even when those who surround you
seem to be singing a wholly different tune.
From a distance, all of our songs
blend into one great harmony,
afloat in the infinite music
of the ever-perfect Yes.

Some things come with built-in smiles.
You know, kittens and puppies,
that sort of thing. They just make you
feel all better inside. Take these
flowers, for instance. Their yellow
just cancels out all your blue,
makes you believe in laughter
and light all over again.
Makes you feel how the Great Yes
genuinely loves us, whether
we deserve it or not.

Oh yes, they have lakes here, too,
shimmering bodies of fresh water
that reflect the blue sky and the green
of the forested hills that surround them.
Silvery fish swim in their waters, and geese
paddle past or bask on the shores In the grass.
And oh! The wildflowers that dance along
their edges. This is summer in its perfection!
Wish you were here!

Okay, summer; you win.
I admit that at first I was put off
by your incessant rains. And when
they ceased, I didn’t trust your dazzle,
seeing it as so much show, an act.
But now you have convinced me.
Your sincerity is everywhere, deep
in its greens, devoted in its endless
display of color. And at last
your warmth has penetrated
my understanding, and I want
nothing more than to sink
into your loving emerald arms.

Oh my! What big eyes you have,
Mr. Dragonfly! And how like a biplane
you seem to be with those papery thin
double wings. Are you from here?
Or did our flowers draw you from
an alien world, some imaginary
place far away where flowers
only come in black and white,
lacking the deliciousness of pink?
I think I get to make a wish on you,
just because you are so splendid.
And in return, let me invite you
to make a wish, too, perhaps
for pink summer flowers forever.

The creek is all but dry now,
the rocks that make up its bed
exposed. Feeling the dry air
against their surfaces they remember
the high places from which they fell
ages ago, and before that, the eons
they spent inside the earth’s womb
until a thunderous tumult pushed them
upward through earth’s crust to touch,
at last, the sky. They recall the way
that trees grew between them,
winding their great roots in a living caress,
freeing them, one by one, to tumble
downward, to begin their long journey
through this so cool and wondrous home.