By Peggy Eastman
Come, let us slip out of these
old winter skins. They don’t fit anymore,
do they? Shrug them off, wad them up,
send them into the corner.
Our Lord knew the restorative power
of rest; let us put on our summer selves.
Come out, come out to breathe,
let the screen door bang behind you.
Isn’t this a clover-scented morning?
Let’s let it fill our nostrils.
Tip your head back and look up, way up;
Tree leaves trace new green patterns on
a moonstone sky. Would that we could weave
them into a summer shawl for front-porch
evenings that may still hold a little nip.
Our Lord taught us the value of time
unplanned; let us put on our summer selves.
At noon today the sun will burn;
can’t you already feel it on your face?
How welcome is its strong caress.
Winter’s days were short and gray,
sliding quickly into night as if
they had no wish to linger. We thought
that grayness would never end. Let’s
banish it to the back of the memory box
of seasons past. Kick off your shoes and
stretch your toes in the deep grass.
Can you hear the call of the cardinal,
high in that reaching tulip poplar? Listen
to the snick of a squirrel’s claws as it
skitters up that oak trunk. Let us breathe
deeply and stretch out our arms to greet
this warm new season of greens and blues.
It’s time to put on our summer selves.
Copyright © by Peggy Eastman, 2022