The Best of Times

 
The Best of Times
 
My summers, in these northern climes,
Have often been the best of times,
When I could nap again at noon
And wonder at the rising moon.
 
On summer afternoons, I’ve made
My way between the sun and shade.
I’ve reveled in the grasses green
And stared at clouds that float serene
Within that arcing summer sky
That I’ll remember till I die.
 
I’ve walked beside the shining sea
And learned again to simply be,
As, blowing cool, the ocean breeze
Has set my heart and mind at ease.
 
I’ve watched the waves and seagulls dance
And seen, afar, the storm’s advance.
I’ve seen the fiery lightning’s flash
And heard the booming thunder’s crash.
And time and time and time again
I’ve sheltered from the summer rain.
 
My summers in the northern zone
Were mostly spent while quite alone.
And yet, I hardly would complain
If I could live them, each, again.

My summers, I have taken slow,
With often nowhere else to go,
Except where I had worked the year.
And yet, those summers still were dear.
My summers, in these northern climes,
Have often been the best of times.

2015 July 6th, Mon., 7:05 pm
Gravesend Bay, Brooklyn, New York