August 2009

Summer is Slipping

I am trying to catch it
But Summer is as slippery as a lawn
freshly wet from being fanned with the sprinkler
It’s quick as a game of Ghosts in the Graveyard
Summer is getting away
I am running fast but it is faster
It hides behind the rusted swing set in the neighbor’s yard
(those kids are now too old for swinging)
I can’t see Summer in the shadows but I hear it panting
like a shaggy dog on an August day

Just when I am about to collar it
Summer takes off down the alley
and I chase it again
I yell Wait Up
Hold On
I’m Coming
But the slap of Summer’s sandals on the asphalt
gets farther and farther away

When I was younger
Summer used to let me hold its hand
And days stretched long like afternoon shadows
We were such friends
Why do you run from me now?

Summer, if I stop chasing you
will you stop running
and let me hold your hand?