Prithee bring me windy days and butterflies
And morning dews upon the grass
Clover soft between my toes
And high above a sunny lass
Besotted by the sweetness of
A change upon the day just passed
With memories of winter’s breath
Yet lingering, alasPrithee bring me dreams of autumn’s long caress
Dreams of Springtide by Erik Emrys Carl
The sultry notes of summer nights
Reds and yellows all aglow
The sunny lass at last alights
With warm illusion on the hill
Her toils for our feast delights
We long for winter’s wild chill
As sashes close and fires build
In slumber holding fast until
The morning dew invites.
I am not fond of the summers in Kansas. When I lived in Dodge City, summers were interminably dry and dust-coated, sweltering, ungodly highs of around 108 in August with nary a cloud in the sky. In Wichita, August highs still reach 100 degrees with intermittent rainy days and pollen so thick it qualifies as precipitate. Even the night holds the heat close like a wild animal caught in a trap.
Forgive me for waxing poetic. Suffice it to say, I am not fond of summers in Kansas.
I love the fall, however. The scents of summer drifting on a steadily cooling evening breeze as the colors change and days grow shorter. When the bugs are drawn to the decay of dying leaves as readily as tender flesh, and a cup of tea on the porch after the sun’s gone down becomes a moment of zen rather than a cry for relief. I’m looking forward to it.
Meanwhile, I am fortunate that many of my preoccupations pair well with air conditioning.