Summer’s Sweet Lullaby


A chicken cackles as she squeezes out an egg, her voice soaring over the morning ripples of the deep, still lake.  Water lilies line the banks, white flowers popping among their thousand-green pads. Grandmother Cedar stands calm and stoic, so big around it would take five people hand-in-hand to encircle her in a hug. No car can be heard, not here.

The water knows in hours we shall jump into her cooling embrace and forget about the silly rushing world only miles away. Three wiener dogs are lazy already, and the cats prowl the yard in search of an insect to jump after or a mouse to chase away. Tomato yellow-flowers come even between blinks and the greens stalks inch toward the sun by the second, asking for a drink now.

It is always the very moment we are in that peace can be found. Maybe it’s easier in Summer, bare feet and tank tops. But always, that peace comes from within. A super moon just days ago tugged at my heart during an evening kayak. I could hear her singing through the rhythmic splashing of the oars in the water, and as I let the vessel slow to a drifty halt to listen, she became still, quiet, watching me. She asked me for a song, and I offered one to her, a serenade, a gratitude, a happy evening hum into the pink hours-long sunset just behind the evergreen standing-tall brothers and sisters who dance along the shore of our happy little lake.

Another season will come, soon enough. And I will choose my happiness in that moment, too. For my gratitude is not contingent on the rain or the sun or the stars or the moon, but in what I do, now. Today let me breath the breathe of Mother Earth; let my eyes be the stars.

All that I am, I offer at the Altar of Love

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