The last sip of summer

The last sip of summer is a lovely phrase.

To me, it embraces the beautiful reluctance of letting go the final carefree days of summer.

A time of cicada songs and black crow squawks, rabbits bounding across sun-burnt lawns, dusty days and drying hay, summer is my favorite season to observe, reflect and play.

In late summer, the hibiscus blooms in my garden. One plant bursts with blood-red trumpet-shaped petals of pleasure; another bears alabaster petals of innocence. Both signal the end of one harmonious cycle and the birth of another.

August slips into September when schoolbooks, carpools and schedules take hold. I gather myself and begin to make space for another transition.

What will I miss most about summer?

• I will miss nature’s sweet perfume buoyant on the hazy air.
• I will miss brilliant, slow days full of dreams.
• I will miss fireflies flash dancing at twilight.
• I will miss winged creatures ascending into a moon-cooled sky. 
• I will miss barefoot boys, blindly rolling their lanky bodies down a grassy knoll in fits of giggles. 

Today, I will cherish the last sip of summer.

What will you miss about summer?

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