The Hill of Summer
The bleakness of a cold, hollow night sends my heart and body aching aimlessly for the presence of their glimmering hopes, of their childlike gigles, and the lightness through gravity as it always will shine. I remember the days of a majestic,emerald green hill laced with staining grasses that would imperfect our denim jeans in the summer’s morning dew.
Return to me, my friends, and let us tread up that great hill until our breaths climax to a steady rhythm of life in desperation for the next pocket of air as if it were only the last.
The air we may breath will be thick with the moisture that has brightened our knees with the harmony of grassy green and we will feel the resistance in the haze as we dance on that hill. Up and down, up and down we run to then roll in our unabashed glory, basked in the blindingly brilliant noonday sun. Then we will seek in the shadows as escape from the brightness of Helios and rest in the black patches of the mothering tree’s looming silhouette.
Who cares of tomorrow, when we live for today, with our ballet of summer and our music of laughter shall trickle down from that hill to our neighbours and friends. And I will remember today, even tomorrow when the bleakness returns. I will forget about tomorrow until tomorrow is once again today, my friends.