My friend Bess spoke wistfully the other day saying “I wish there were more days in July…”
As the month ends and August approaches, that old “end of summer” feeling hits hard. Even though there are no more school days on my horizon, I remain programmed for summertime and all that it brings. And always has.
Summertime is for wistfulness.
Emily Dickinson captured the magnificence of the season in her poem, “A Something in a Summer’s Day” which inspired me to reflect. Connect. Randomly. Wistfully. No iambic-pentameter, however…
Glistening morning drops of dew
Flowers’ flush of vibrant hues
On the canyon path a lone being in view
A something in a summer’s day
A picnic basket’s checkered cloth
A ladybug’s polka-dotted back
A plink of copper wind chimes in the breeze
A something in a summer’s day
Plums, peaches, popsicles
Potato salad, pickles, potato chips
Perfumed scents—rosemary, roses, petunias
A something in a summer’s day
Ulysses pages open on a lounge
Under a straw hat, a slumbering soul
An umbrella, a paper fan, a spritz of cool water
A something in a summer’s day
A sunrise, a sunset, a Full Moon, a firefly
A flicker, a twinkle, a chirp, a humm-m-m-m
Sounds, sights, and sweet scents of the season
Something in a summer’s day
Tomatoes growing on the vine
Ice cubes clinking in fruited wine
A nightcap in moon’s shine
A something to end a summer’s day
Many somethings in a summer day