Summer will come again
The dry lawn is tickled green when that sprinkler strikes again, hissing and spitting its arc of silver. Butterflies and bees, who cannot use lane markers, stop signs, or directional indications, move quickly through the air. One of my acquaintances claims that after pollination, fruition, and all that bee-buzzed jazz, we are now in the shaded area of the garden and have entered our autumnal days. But I advise you to hold off.
We'll know in due time if they were correct.
It's still summer, and the breeze takes the hair from the back of your neck and envelops you in honey strewn from a million petals.
The borders have been lit on fire by the salvia, coreopsis, and roses, and the peaches that are ready for picking are dripping with juice. Still in the process of becoming, we are still ripening into our bodies.
Celebrate the sugar you've had all day.
laud that enormous, tomato-shaped sun.
