A Summer's Pause

It's Summertime.
Swinging and dancing in ecstatic circles until you go fasterandfasterandfaster
and you fall down in a petticoat-over-the-head heap.

It looks like umpteen waterslides

and buckets

and swimmin' in the pool Every Single Day

and picking the raspberries

and forgetting about the raspberries because there are so many other things to do

and movies at the drive-in

and toys that decorate the front and back yards because Play just absolutely CanNot be contained in a civilized fashion.

It looks like the family flag being flown jubilantly

and sand

and damn near Always runnin' around in your hardly nothin's.

It smells like rain in the desert (well, maybe once or twice)

and charcoal

and Hot

and hot and hot and hot

and forty-five cherry popsicles per day.

It sounds like mama's favorite music out in the backyard

and the quiet, splashy noise of the pool's pump

and the occasional pop of a firecracker.

There are hummingbird whirs

and incandescent wings of dragonflies named George

and squished, tiny plums all over the patio.

There are bees buzzing the peppermint and catnip

peaches being watched eagerly

and tomatoes being coaxed into hurrying.

The corn is high (I just know the cotton would be too, if we had it)

and so are our spirits.

High,
high,
high
are those spirits.

The crickets started singing last night--
It's good, y'all.
Here's to This Beautiful Life.