Summer

Today is hiking narrow trails through tall grass,
holding little hands and kissing scraped knees.
Today is wildflowers of purple and yellow,
 inviting small voices to say,
"Look at this, Mama!  Do you see this one?"
Today is hot sun and quiet shade,
chuckling creek and hushing pines.

Today is growing boy wielding sticks,
protector-child fending off invisible bears.
Today is little sister following brother's footsteps,
scaling slopes too steep with resolve to keep up.
Today is puppy legs climbing hills,
bounding ahead and coming back.
Today is muscle and exuberance,
finding strength and receiving joy.

Today is fresh air and a mother's brand of tranquility:
small bodies, big smiles, excited voices, and time to stop or go
or breathe deep or look around,
all around.
Today is nowhere to be and no one to see.  

Today is summer.