Beloved

WiltedHydrangea

Hands down, Summer is my favorite season.
I can’t even think of the wintry months ahead,
as the skies turn dark today. Surely I will yearn for
my Atlantic ocean,
my garden,
my sunsets,
my warm rain,
my soft earth;
my beloved Summer full of new and strange adventures.

As the Autumn Equinox begins,
the essence of Summer wilts into my 45th memory
of my favorite season of all.
Every year it seems like a gift to me to see the earth teeming with life.
Every year,
each year,
gets shorter and shorter.
Surely I will yearn for the sounds of
my crickets,
my waves,
my lawnmowers,
my fireworks,
my birds,
my favorite song playing through an open car window.

Because Summer is the song of childhood.

As the Autumn Equinox begins,
it reminds me that soon the earth will become hard again,
covered by the blanket of crunchy skeletons.
Soon the skies will be black,
the air will be cold,
and not only will I feel it,
but I will see it.
Soon the technicolor landscape on the hills and the mountains
will bring nature its last show of the year,
its grand finale,
before the curtain falls on another cycle.

And that its grand finale can be majestic almost cures me of my Summer woes,
as if nature itself talked to me,
whispering its bittersweet goodbye,
that it will be back.
And I cling to my life,
hoping and praying for my life,
that I will see the wonderful cycle happen again.

And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

To see again,
hear again,
feel again,
touch my sun-kissed skin again.

My beloved Summer,
my beloved Life,
full of new and strange adventures.

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