The last day of summer. And this little humdrum of a melody keeps playing in my head. So long sweet summer. I stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays. So long sweet summer.
The green enveloping me, the tiny twists of heat and sound. The twirls of insect song. The syllables of love that beat inside of walls. The ways we escaped ourselves. The ways we escaped pain. The ways we followed love. The ways we chased light. Freedom. Empowerment. The moments we strung up our voices and shouted for justice. The mountains we scaled in a little rolling vehicle of metal and gas. The thirsty squeals of plants that rose in the rain. The sun-drenched catapults of grass that bent under my feet. This rake caked in dirt. This dirt caked in water. This water caked in trillions of bacteria and the life-living prayer of the things that beat intuitively. That live without warning, without need, without analysis. The life-living things that breathe. That humble around the roots and roads we travel. The life-living canopy. The network of singing, swimming, crawling dancers. The minutiae of nature that breathes with green life. That grows with white light. That flows with wild streams of oxygen and water. Oxygen and water. These things I praise and honor. These things we must fight for. These things we must know. Deeply and gratefully.
Hey thanks, thanks for that summer. Thanks for those windows open, wind rushing, sunset glaring, bike-ride bumbling, star-glazing gazing, sunscreen-slathering sun-days. Thanks for the rain. For the smell of small drops of water on the ground. For the vision of green cocooning me as I drive.
Thanks for the mud. For the bliss. For the chlorine in my hair and the stones in the river. Thanks for new towns, new places, old loves. Thanks for discovery and thanks for tradition. Thank you trees for shading me. Thanks for all the flowers, all the colors, all the creations.