Alas. I have let this one go. Must be summer, with the kids either surrounding me nonstop or being outside once the June rains finally stopped. Whatever it was, here’s a late entry, one of my own pieces:
mt. lakes, my 16th year
light rainfall last night —
the pine railings and planks of the deck
dry sweetly under the july sunrise,
the scent of earthy moss and heavy
humus from the surrounding woods.
the fragrances humble each other
through waking eyes i see
the still lake beyond evergreens and
wandering branches of birch trees.
my beach towel, hung inside yesterday,
still carries the memory of chlorine and
suntan oil. ten minutes before i must
bike to work, rake the short strip of sand,
skim the nearby pool,
ready the life buoys and rings, preparation
for the summer folk
with their coolers of sandwiches, sodas
and martinis: their daily baggage.
my house is still asleep,
but elsewhere children’s laughter echoes
from the distant shore,
early fishermen, perhaps, too eager
to care about scaring the trout to the
water’s murky depths.
i savor this brief solitude
in this moment of dawn.
i listen for my siblings, my parents,
and let the wind caress my face.
summer vacation is almost over.