summer

If it could only be like this always _ always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper...

...and so many colorsI will have seen...the menacing greysand pine greensthe soft pink and purplesof springand summer blueand so many otherswithout you.

Oh, the summer night / HAS A SMILE OF LIGHT / And she sits on a sapphire throne.

Summer is a gentleman: slowly warming the earth at length before undressing her in the fall.

This is so funny,_ said Ellen, noticing the seating arrangement. __sn__ this funny? Tom, come sit next to Robin. Griffin, sit next to Laura._ I stood up and sat next to Robin while Griffin brought his chair over to Laura. __hat__ better,_ said Ellen. __sn__ that better?

I__e officially turned into a loser,_ she whispered cynically. ____ looking forward to going home and having cereal for dinner and walking Mitchell and studying a little and then going to sleep. I__e had my __oing out and having fun_ quota for the year, I guess, and it__ June.

All things are beautiful in the sacred time.

I am but a firefly caught in his jar and when he looks at me, I can__ help but glow.

I don__ think I__e ever referred to any girl I dated as my girlfriend. I think that would freak me out. Even the girl that I dated for two years in college I don__ think I ever referred to her as my girlfriend.___ow would you introduce her?_ I asked.____ just going to say her name,_ he said.

On days when it was too hot, they did not leave their room. The dazzling brilliance from outside plastered bars of light between the slats of the blinds. Not a sound in the village. Down below, on the sidewalk, no one. This spreading silence increased the tranquility of things. In the distance, the caulkers_ hammers tamped the hulls, and a heavy breeze brought the smell of tar.

Dad" I pleaded, "this is so [cuss word you never, ever say in front of your mother] ridiculous.

That summer lying in the long grass with my head propped up against the back of a saddle, with the zenith above me and the drop of distance below, I listened to the mountain silence until I could hear as far into it as the faintest clink of a cowbell. In the mountains, what might be out of sight had never really gone away. Like the mountain, that distant bell would always be there. It would keep reminding.

So it was a crossroads summer, when the universe seemed to stand perilously still like an egg wobbling on a precipice, a regular rite of passage summer that saw us traverse the hazardous divide between the illusions of boyhood and the far more pernicious deceptions of maturity, et cetera.

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

There's nothing more beautiful than watching trees getting dressed up for Spring and Summer

Some of us wear our hearts. Some of us carry them.

The quarrels of lovers are like summer storms. Everything is more beautiful when they have passed.

Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.