Midsummer Day Dream

Midsummer Day Dream

                Honey-suckle, sunny, clear summer day.  Puddle of bubble in a dish, in the sky, floating, drifting in the wind.  Honey-suckle, hummingbirds hover, bee flutter.  The evening air is calming, friendly, knowing; gently, gently whisking on by.  Sweeping across the boys hair, brushing his cousin’s cheeks, ruffling her clothing.  Sun fading, orange and red, stark sky, dreamy clouds.  Hummingbirds flutter and bees hover, my cousin blows bubbles from a puddle in a dish.  Run, jump, and catch the bubbles, bubbles, bubble; double the trouble, a kid with bubbles.  Watch them drifting, prancing, in the evening air.  The honey-suckle sways, sweet scents fill the air, mix the bubbles, and watch the sun.

Fire burning, sizzle and pop the grill hisses, screeches.  Honey-suckle, hotdog sizzle-chuckle, hamburgers in the wind.  Tasty breeze moving bubble, rumbling tummies, perking noses.  Pepper in hand, crisp chirp of pop can snap.  Guzzle, fizz, burn, and sugar.  One bubble pop, two bubble pop, red cloud whispers, blue fish days. 

Dinner will be ready soon.  Hotdog and hamburger, corn on the cob; plate of stuffing, side of peas, extra butter, extra helping (or two, three, four, this many the plate holds).  Eat and eat, munch it up.  Pink lemonade for the drink, apple pie for the desert.  A good meal to fill the stomach.  A good meal to satisfy.  A meal like glee condensed and stored within.  Good food, warm back.  Days of summer sun and irresponsible fun.  Child of seven, cousin of five, playing with bubbles under the bright mothering sun.  Play with the bubbles, cause all possible troubles.  Run around, prance from field to field, and jump from cloud to cloud.  Bees buzz and hummingbirds murmur in the evening air.  Let be as shall be, all things too shall pass, without you or within you.  This words of wise, all known to the littlest.  The blissful, the gleeful.  The children of seven and cousins of five, those which play with bubbles as grown-ups jump to work, cook and look over.  And thus the summer evenings do go. 

Night sets in, the night to search out the sun.  Red fluff clouds, battle of blood for the sky.  Red and orange move to purple and blue.  Soothe.  Night falls in, calls to children, let lie that which once ran.  Fire once cold, the embres begin to glow.  Throw logs, break sticks, snap twigs.  All to feed the growing glow.  Consumes and eats, turns to ash, all which are given.  Fire bright, Earthen starlight.  Chairs warmth spread for all.  Sit and relax, long day of work, longer day of play, rest and let live that which shall pass.  Stories go around once or twice; tales of woe and epics of fantastics.  Give it out, let the children nod off.  Pepper in hand, snap metal cap, guzzle and sip sugar-taste water within.  Summer cold sets in.  Midsummer night envelopes like a dream.  Silence settles, slowly and willingly.  Fire bright keeps spirits alight. 

Back-straps, six-strings, acoustic beauty appears.  Play a tune, sing the music.  Easy, soft, tuning whips around the flames.  Sing a line, fix a string, sing another.  A poor man’s violin shows itself on the other side, the djembe starts up nearby.  Music plays.  The hummingbirds are gone, the bees stopped buzzing, and now it’s time for human to add to the universe.  Of all the chords, all the compositions of the cosmos, this is our tribute.  Child of seven listens, tapping along, learning how to play along with God.  Cousin of five lets the melody roll over, sliding down, drifting off in her chair.  Three-four, three-four, two-three, two-three, tap and tat.  Bongo beat base, holding the rest up.  Fiddle tiddles and taps, skipping and sliding.  Guitar hums a merry tune. Play the song everyone knows, sing the jingle our hearts beat too.  Go and go, on and on, till the fire dies.  Wood dwindles and night air sets in.  Not long is yet left of this summer night.  Not long is haven continued.

Goodbyes are exchanged.  Hands are waved, backs are patted.  Children should be in bed, dogs need let out back home.  The food was good, the day better.  Everyone loved the music; “We should do this again,” “You could start a band,” “Soon,” “Soon…”  And house full, night cheerful, turns quiet.  Silence, almost sad.  It is not the end; everything will go but everything lives on too.  Sad in a way, the music gone, but music still in the hearts of all those who listened and played, music living on even when gone, gone, gone…  Child of seven gets ready for sleep, brushing teeth and cuddling blankets beneath.  One more story, one more bedtime song, and bed time it comes.  Cousin asleep in the car, riding home, another asleep in bed, at home, warm and snug.  The day ends, the party over.  All move on.  All things too shall pass.