Summer is my favorite season” - 6/18/24
Summer is my favorite season!
I’ve never been one to want to jump into the ocean
The idea of cooling off on a hot day by entering
The glistening, dangerous unknown entity that
Might, despite its magnanimity, swallow me whole or
Offer up a jellyfish, generously, upon which I might
Unintentionally step with abandon only to be stung
By spontaneity’s misspent, misleading surrender
Makes me as nerve-wracked as the idea of
Being a bee-keeper (in spite of my affection for honey)
And don’t get me started about trying to swim
I was sent away to sleep-way camp at 5 with activities
So numerous I get dizzy just reminiscing:
Water skiing, camping, archery, Polar Bear Club
Early morning hikes, gymnastics on the beach
Softball games blinded by unrelenting sunshine
Row-boat rides, kyaks upside-down
Trying pathetically not to drown
No - none of that felt “me” at all. I would’ve liked, back then,
To have been embraced by the adults in my midst to
Just stay home…finally enjoying the delectable freedom
That was “No more school! No more teachers telling us what to do!!”
I would have liked, some moments along my
Uber-extra-curricular trajectory, to simply just BE
Butterflies in the garden, a porch swing,
A nap beneath the weeping willow tree
Now, in my mature age, I’ve humbly succumbed to
The middle way; I’m not too proud
To say “it’s too hot to do anything”
Sipping iced-green-tea slowly, it occurs to me (not exactly profoundly)
That summer was the season my parents were a little too eager
To get rid of me maybe and in hindsight it that feels
More reasonable than I’d expect. I can understand
Adult humans’ need to protect their own interests,
Literal and figurative, apart from being mentors, schleppers,
Disciplinarians and breadwinners
So now, sitting by the creek, poetry books in my
Shoulder bag rhinestoned water bottle ready to quench
This thirst for genuine rest Winter and Spring
Don’t quell best I can exhale with confidence
Understanding at last that Summer is the season
For putting everything else last but the birdsong’s
Grace, the wildflowers’ uplift the light breeze’s gentle
Touch fresh veggies prettiest berries seasonal depression
At blissful bay a guitar’s strum has a deeper ring a friend’s laugh
A warmer hue the colors of summer bleed into one with
Red and green and yellow and blue and in this season
All things, creatures, people and places whisper softly
“I understand and
I approve of
You just being you!”
