12 Elul: Summer: An Obituary

Summer faded slowly that year, like 
a sunflower bowing its heavy head. 
I reminded myself to enjoy 
the meandering of mind, 
the swooning of soul. 

I waited for you, I whispered to Summer. 
At times, the chilled air of waiting stung 
my cheeks pink and cocooned me in my bed.
But I knew, when you arrived, Summer, 
that you would be worth a thousand winds.
I was not wrong, for Summer wisped 
in on a warm breeze, dancing,  
leaving footprints of freckles on my shoulders. It was
easy to fall fast for her, for Summer flaunts her beauty
with the whir of hummingbirds, and bursting blooms
of color. Her love always returns, a little different each
time, 
but I always recognize her. That year 
she was fast by day and slow by night. 

Why hasn’t Summer’s death split me open, sent
me to my bed wrapped in sheets of sorrow? She
didn’t want that for me. 
It was not her way. 
The Summer I knew strewed her gifts 
like wildflower seeds on the wind.
Her sun’s rays sliced the darkness. 
Perhaps that is why she grew tired, 
weary; her light slowly dimming. Rest now,
on the horizon. 

I want to beg her to stay longer, 
to escort in the first cool breath of autumn. Is it
wrong to wish that Summer would die slowly? Not
with pain or suffering, not in sickness but in the
same way the fog rolls in, 
gently, slowly. 
For it is easier to lose something so beautiful
a little at a time.