Blue Summer's Eve

There’s this point in summer when the rains come, and the heat loosens it grip for a moment. If all is quiet, you might hear something click. It's a marker for a subtle change, hard to notice in the rush to shore and mountain. But, sooner or later, you feel a slow drifting, as if the year has crested a hilltop, and is coasting down the lower valley.

The anticipation of June – realized or not – begins to give way. The magic that filled the air in mid-summer, blinks like the last fireflies. The nights are overheated, but the shadows are somehow deeper. The sun is still on fire, but its light begins to cant, as if to say, “This, and not much more, girl.”

I catch myself searching for that first scent of decaying leaves, that first crisp night, not sure if I want to embrace it or forestall it. So little play behind, and so much work ahead. Did I waste this summertime on too much labor and not enough love? Too much voice and not enough thought? Too much movement and too little dance? And, should I really be peering down the road to autumn when a part of summer remains undiscovered?

Tomorrow, the sun rises to release this blue evening, one more time … one more time … one more time … then done.