The Sun Is Out

The Sun is out,

It burns my face, and my freckles turn Golden.

I was born in the Summer and await each Solar return —

the renewal of life;

it is my favorite time — my rebirth, my song

I’m a child of your sky, Soleil,

Skipping and running and feeling so well,

A butterfly!

Plums burst through their skins; apricots are smiling,

Juices cascading into the earth — the fragrance of a thousand blossoms

What a feast it is.

I want it never to end.

The skies are so bright that hope does not fade.

Life is good, Soleil.

Scorched leaves, the grasses are dry like the Sahara desert

Earth smells like clay, with cracks on her ancient feet

Mosquitos are dancing in the Moonlight, drunk with delight —

I hear the drumbeat of the cicadas and crickets, and fish catch water droplets in the air-

My skin is breathing it in.

Apples fall to the ground, beet stalks turn yellow, and the beetles feast, smelling the sweetness of decay.

Soon, the skies will turn dark again, but not yet

Harvest time is coming, and in a blink, it will be Fall.