The Coming of Summer

 

Slipping in and out of the impulse
Between solid evidence
And the light that springs
Translucently through the tree leaves
Could I perhaps hold her there
Perhaps keep her
From slipping away?

This is an interlude
Between seasons of heat.
Rain may fall and the cisterns fill
A vacuum cleaner may run down stairs,
But she it was who looked back
Once with a slight smile
Noticing me walking behind.

Such a short time it seemed
Forever before we took the
Boat out, the wind whipping
The sails and her hair,
Too close to some rocks once.
I started the Seagull to take
Us out of harm’s way.

So what of this, her spending
So much time sleeping,
Losing her recollection
Of that time and only
Me here grasping it with
The mist settling on the leaves
Before the coming of summer?