There’s a clamor in the tree across the street. Squirrels give chase and flirt along the branches. Dew awakens the lilies before the coffee percolates and early-risers conquer the neighborhood streets with “Good mornings” and “Stay cool today!”s. A doe pauses from her woodland breakfast to survey her view. It’s summer and it’s a beautiful morning.
The dew has long been dried and the soil cracks a bit. Hummingbirds dip their heads in and out of the feeder, readying for another flower-dart. A slight breeze sways the trees and everyone stills, escaping the heat. The ever-busy bees buzz headlong into the window’s glass, their flights never halted to even gather their senses. It’s summer. It’s hot. And it’s the afternoon.
The grill lights. Watermelon’s sliced. The sprinklers offer happy hour drinks and the fans whirr, chasing the heat. The fireflies dance to the choir of the crickets and the toads belt out their bass song too. The deer search for clover again and we draw out the day with stories and tickles. It’s summer. It’s evening, and it was the best of days.