Tag Archives: summer

The Keeper

What was it in his eyes? Not Monday, too sluggish. Not Tuesday, too fair. Wednesday? Maybe. Wait, Friday. Definitely Friday. An entire succession of Fridays with their infinite possibilities and wild freedom.

Better yet? Summer. Its hazy glint of blazing afternoons, burning stars, and galaxies ripped open wide in a nightly show replayed in his pupils for the world to take notice.

But did it? Did it slow its rushing and clawing and climbing and grasping to stop and look? I mean stare?

If it had, they would have seen, could have inhaled present. Clock hands turned, digital numbers flipped, even sunlight shifted. But his eyes . . . wet with oceans and the beams of a thousand lighthouses anchored.

Summer

Summer exhales long and slow.  Breath perfumed with jasmine and honeysuckle breezes over me.  She orchestrates the jaunting chorus of ice-cream trucks and children’s laughter mingled with the ocean’s sighs.  She grabs my hand and slows my pace to a languid stroll.  I inhale the fragrance of pine needles blanketing concrete.  The loud buzzing of Cicada is welcome white noise.  Summer works deftly overhead mixing humidity and sunshine with generous heaps of azure.  Sprinkling in some electric zigzags and swarthy scowls.  The forecast:  smiling sun with a chance of growling gray. 

© Pamela A. Rossow

Friday Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. Photos – no words – capturing moments from the week. Simple, special, extraordinary moments. Moments you want to pause, savour and remember. “This Moment” is a ritual found on  Life inspired by the Wee Man which I then kidnapped from Almost there by Sarah-Jane and snagged from Alejandro.