We're well into the second half of July now; summer is marching on toward fall, and with it the start of school in September and the tensions rising toward the midterm elections in November. Today's poem by Louis Jenkins reminds us that Mother Nature is waiting in the wings to extract her winter payment for the joy of the summer days, hot though they may be.
July
by Louis Jenkins
Temperature in the upper seventies, a bit of a breeze. Great
cumulus clouds pass slowly through the summer sky like
parade floats. And the slender grasses gather round you,
pressing forward, with exaggerated deference, whispering,
eager to catch a glimpse. It’s your party after all. And it couldn’t
be more perfect. Yet there’s a nagging thought: you don’t really
deserve all this attention, and that come October, there will be
a price to pay.
Don't worry about the heat. You'll be complaining about the cold soon enough.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
1 comment:
"Temperature in the upper seventies, a bit of a breeze."
That's one day in April and one day in October.
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