Summer is upon us, at least according to the calendar. But here in the Pacific Northwest, summer has not arrived, not quite yet. We think we can see it coming with each sunny morning, only to don a hooded fleece by day’s end. We set out shorts and sandals for the kids to wear in the morning, only to lead the kids from the house clad in full rain gear against the deluge issuing from slate gray skies. Steaks on the grill are delayed in favor of hearty soup in the crock pot.
Such is spring here in the Pacific Northwest. Last week, we spent a sunny Saturday at the beach in Edmonds. On Sunday, we ventured onto the beach on Camano Island, only to have the frigid wind drive us to the shelter of the forest. But summer will come, sooner or later. Beaches will fill with people and lakes with boats. The smell of barbecue will waft through neighborhoods, the Safeco Field roof will stay open, and we will leave home without our coats for a couple of precious months. And it will be good.
Here are a couple of poems I’ve composed on this particular topic:
Warm winter, cold spring
Summer sunshine held at bay
The sun’s warmth on the skin is fleeting,
A touch, there then gone, withdrawn before it can be grasped,
Warm wind is but a whisper past the ears,
Caressing the lips and nose with a hint of brine
Naked skies, blue kissed by orange, flash before human eyes
Before they are robed in grey and white,
Coy summer flirts, teases, seduces
Before enveloping the winter-weary in her warm embrace.
I’ve also posted these over on Undead Poets.