The honey-haired girl started back to school today; "attendance in Homeroom at 7:30 am sharp." She's only been working on her summer assignments ALL SUMMER long. At least the summer that was left to her. It's not even the middle of August yet, there's plenty of dog days ahead.
If there were a Magpie-ian calendar, I would drag summer by the tips of its flip-flops into October. Couple weeks of autumn and Indian summer, Happy Halloween, couple more weeks of autumn foliage descending leave by gorgeous leave to soften the hard edges of concrete walkways, moving on to give full attention to Thanksgiving, then--and only then--Christmas revelry. New Years. Couple of months of morbid depression while the sun never shines and it rains every day, then you get allergy season. Some call it spring, but they're probably hopped up on pseudoephedrine. And again, back round to summer, the most blissful time imaginable.
Late Afternoon, St. John
by Linda Pastan
A little blue heron has landed on the roof.
It is as if a small angel had parked in our lives,
shielding us briefly with its wings.
In the cove the old turtle surfaces again;
shadows of reef fish shiver by.
On the stones chameleons go through their wheel of colors.
Rustle of coconut fronds
combing the soft air...glitter
of passing raindrops.
Let go. Let go.
Soon the sun will plunge
into the sea dragging its plumage
of pinks and purples.
I can almost taste
the oleander, smell
the salt on your skin.
Soon we will drown
in our five exploding senses.