ode to summer

 

dear summer,
in the morning you feel faraway, gone even
as the cool breeze bites the tops of my ears
and the back hairs of my neck stand up
but by midday
when you're streaming in the windows
drying the clothes on the line
sweating around the brow and underarms
I'm certain you're still here -

You are my least favourite season,
which is not to say
I don't love your brightness,
your blueness, and harvests -
It's just I find you exhausting
your long days of light,
intensity, heat unrelenting,
busyness.

This summer, I have:
watched the pasture turn brown
seen my garden shrivel up
and a black snake slithering, 
been surrounded by bleeding sheep
and cheeping children 
visited my mama and the city of my youth 
dipped my toes in the ocean 
felt sand in my hands
read a lot of books
struggled to sleep
walked with my sisters 
sorted long-forgotten things
let go, and let go, 
and felt excitement for what’s ahead - 

And after all this is said,
the epitome of you 
Is still the first apricot of the season,
that sweet sweet juiciness! 
Summer.