I stretch out on a blanket, book in hand, bare
feet crisscrossed in meditation while soaking in
summerâ€™s choir. Scripture’s sweet serenade rustles
remembrance of Creator and creation, beneath whispering
The sopranos and altos chirp from
tree and grass harmonizing as they
exert; while crooning frogs flirt with baritone
bellows, calling for their girl.
Summer’s song invites me into the steady
rhythm of tire swings and popsicle stained, childhood
giggles. Book abandoned, I dangle over river’s edge,
pumping legs in eager anticipation of touching
clouds and releasing cares as I plop into the
cool refreshment of your love.