In medias res 2009

Tomorrow is July
With all the heat lightning
And gunpowder and collecting lightning bugs
In a clear Mason jar container,
A lazy flip through the sweetness of the season
Into the cool, crisp waters of a swimming pool,
Sweet like the juice of a ripe watermelon
Running down my forearms
Or the warm taste of a blackberry cobbler
Loaded with lots of butter and sugar
And all the good things that life
Is ready to offer despite our common failure
To fully recognize that in the ripeness of Summer
About this time
There will be hotdogs on the grill
And potato salad and baked beans
And the crack of a watermelon
Like a wooden bat on ball
As the knife splits it into manageable slices
And lays its pink fruit on the tray
Before us, so cold and so sweet,
Day ending with a clap of gunpowder, flash,
In the star-bedazzled night
A midnight blue background
To the dreams and the celebrations
Before Autumn drifts in and
Spirits the kids off to school
And life returns to its dull, plodding pace
And the dying of the leaves and chill Canadian winds
And the reminders of life's tenuous drift
Tracking us downward, gravity pulling,
Far from the taste of the watermelon
And the sweetness of the peaches,
The smell of new-mown grass
And the drift of charcoal smoke.