The bulk of our summer slips further from our grasp like a
glass of lemonade gone precarious with condensation. We sure lived the hell out
of it. We floated every night in the midnight zone until our pores clogged with
salt water. We watched for the Perseids flying between stars innumerable above
us. We let the sun move across the deathless sky. Summer was cake and we
devoured it — asked for seconds, even.
As Labor Day fades, there is still a little bit of summer
left. We have waited all through the season, through fireworks and seared
steaks, until the flowers exhausted their bloom and the waves were as warm as
they could be. Now it is just about here, the cherry on top of the whole summer. We wait for slightly southern skies, for the breeze flowing from ocean to bay, for
laughter to clang around the deck.
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