A poem, inspired by Cynthia Rylant’s In November.
In July , the earth is full of excitement. The birds are chirping loudly at 4 a.m. They’ve made their homes and now dutifully tend to their nestling babies. The trees that were once bare are now a brilliant green, robust with life. It’s as if they grew full just so they could protect the life inside the tiny shell of straw, sticks and grass.
In July, the air is warm with a south breeze. The sun lingers a little longer each day and the moon shines brightly over the people as they sit on their porches. No more hurrying. Children are out of school. Let the lazy days of reading, swimming, cooking, and playing commence…outdoors. Everything leans a little higher – toward the sun, in July.
In July, the night sky is lit by a fireworks display for all. Music is in the air while friends gather to watch the show. Red, White and Blue is everywhere. The smells coming from the grill are new in July. People attend picnics and eat corn on the cob, watermelon, potato salad, and fried chicken. They drink beer and wine, too. No more cooking indoors, in July.
In July, we snuggle under our covers at night. The window wide open to catch the warm air. The fan on so it’s just a little cool. Outside the crickets and tree toads play their melody and lull us to sleep.
In July, at the peak of summer, the world has come alive with renewal and is rejuvenated. The days feel like they will never end. Winter is just a distant memory.