There's something about a summer evening
After the day's somnolent, wet heat
the hair plastered to the back of the neck
the sweat that trickles over the collar bone and between the breasts.
Unlike the chill sharpness of autumn or the dull grey cold of winter,
summer evenings offer invitation.
"Kick off your shoes and stay awhile," it says
knowing it will cast its long shadows well past time for little ones to be abed.
Fireflies wink while boats hum low over the water
and the silver gleam of twilight teases the eyes with fairy dust promises
until it's impossible to stay inside
where cold canned air blasts out of sensibly geometric holes in the carpet.
Instead I long to enter the soft summer blanket
that damply enfolds the evening environs, promising coolness it will never deliver
Yet the sweet smell of grass cooling and earth releasing the sun's heat
mixed with the song of crickets and evening birds settling in soft rustling chirrups
Sing a song that no other season can compose,
A song that echoes of childhood lost and innocence surrendered
redemption just beyond the soft magenta horizon
rebirth in the dew fresh springing on the tired sun-baked grass.