Poetry Monday: Summer

We’re grasping at the last weeks of summer here. The car is full of sand, the kids are spending more time in bathing suits than clothes, and we’re running out of sun block. 

But I hate how summer disappears so quickly, don’t you? We get to Fourth of July, I blink, and the summer is over. In fact, my standard response to the inevitable “How has your summer been?” is always “Fast.”
So, before I clean the sand out of my car, I’m pausing and relishing the heat, sun, and last few weeks of fun. Hope you are, too.

By Carlo Betocchi
And it grows, the vain
even for us with our
bright green sins:
behold the dry guest,
the wind,
as it stirs up quarrels
among magnolia boughs
and plays its serene
tune on 
the prows of all the leaves–
and then is gone,
leaving the leaves
still there,
the tree still green, but breaking
the heart of the air. 
Carlo Betocchi, Tutte le poesie, Copyright Garzanti Editore spa, 1996.