I stretch out on a blanket, book in hand, bare
feet crisscrossed in meditation while soaking in
summer’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.