The Saga of Summer Lost

Summer’s rolling to a crushing halt. Pressing all the golden sunshine into a few last precious hours. Did I get enough. Beautiful blue sky, white sun, ocean curl. Did I sit poised in front of a computer screen too long, waiting for words that wouldn’t come.

Wouldn’t. Come. Words.

Days slip by, blue fades to black and the buzzing of lightning bugs turns into the whisper of autumn wind.

It. Comes. Soon.

The winter sky will hang bleak, my soul will be pressed against the brown earth and I will long for just one more minute of perfect summer. I will press my palm against cold window, longing for warmth.

Sky. Pale. Skin.

White and black and brown will replace my summer garden. My heart will thunder less and my flesh will grow thick. Longing for the lean days of gentle breeze. I will walk less and eat more, burrow into a cocoon.

Need. Summer. Heat.