Where have I been?
I can only answer
that the words had left me!
As they do
or maybe they have followed me
at a distance
waiting for me to look around?
So I turned.
To see...it had become fall
and summer had fled
on its papery sun drenched wings
I am wistful,
grieving the things it takes with it.
The warm swampy smell of the lake,
rising like a fragrant steam
inviting and beckoning.
The long days of endless heat
and ways to play and stay wet.
The muted hum
of sounds while floating,
ears immersed in aqua.
The enchanting words and moments
that are called forward
while bobbing on our blue playground,
sprawled lazily about
on gleaming white seats,
toasting this and that with bubbles.
The brilliant reflection of red and yellow
and our dipping paddles,
a liquid ballet in the dawns light.
The desert doesn't have seasons
some will say,
true, not as dramatic as anywhere else,
with its desire to please
through hues of changing colors.
but ah... it is there
in the subtle beauties
that are gifted to the
ones paying attention
with watchful eyes.
Its in the light
and the way the water's color
deepens as if the putting on a heavy coat,
letting the heat sink and the chill rise.
It's in the Mud Duck's music
as they skim
the lakes surface in a chaotic chorus,
to escape that which interrupts
their serene drifting.
(Which is usually us and our canoe...
we can't seem
to resist the opportunity
to scatter and harass them.)
It's in that which is supposed to be green
and was before
the daunting days of high temps,
subtle displays of a lively perkiness,
as if to say "hey, look at me I survived
and am ready to shine again."
It's in the smile of my dog,
bounding mid morning
over cooled pavement, free and joyful.
Its in the color orange everywhere
and the anticipated smell of spice.
Its in the pointy hats and shelves
of bagged candy.
In Vincent Price's laughter and
roar turns and waz ups and
new dancers with cheers
for themselves and one another.
Its in the sky and the harvest moon,
torches filled and flames dancing
across the faces of friends
with new words.
But I will miss the hoop and board,
the water friends I must say farewell to,
my tan and the sunsets while being knee deep,
the purr of my boat prop taking me
out to the next adventure.
The music that says its been memorable,
the early morning race to do
it all, before the heat advances
from the east!
The days so long
and the light...so inexhaustible !
It is both beginning and endings.
With a required vow to let "summer"
and all her wonders
She won't be held on to,
endless only in our imaginings
and the promise of another May.
One last look tho...
as I turn around
to take my words with me
and I think I can feel the whisper
of her fleeting wings
Pam Piper Rain