Dream On, Summer (By Bossy)

It enters like a hot lover who demands that you sweat on cue.  You do, because you don’t want to deny it’s warm embrace following the cold demon of winter.

You wear less and drink more, usually something of the Palm Bay variety.  You encourage hose consumption.

BBQ heaven fills the thick air as you decide maybe you should meet your neighbours.  Actually, nope.  They seem weird and you’re pretty sure they hack your WIFI.

Swimming lessons, tennis lessons, soccer lessons.  Who brought the oranges this week?  No kid eats oranges anymore?  Do kids know what an orange is anymore?  Do oranges contain nuts?

Please pass the sunblock, SPF 95, but set me up in the shadiest part of the yard.  No shadier.  No, shadier.  You can just set me up in your living room.

That’s a mosquito bite.  That’s a spider bite.  I’m pretty sure I’m currently consuming Lyme.  What if I wear this collar?

Ladies and Gentleman, here come the fireworks, the loudest boat on the lake (make sure to wave) and the cutest swimsuit you’ve ever seen.  You wonder why you ever would have shopped at Sears.

Pull this.  Cut that.  Mow here.  Whip there.  Pet that bee.  He’s doing a good job.

Go outside.  No.  Come inside.  No.  Would you like to play in this plastic bucket filled with Thursday’s water?  Yes.

Have you seen Theresa lately?  No, because you’re getting her mail, remember.  Make sure to feed the cat and check for intruders.  Snakes are expected.  They live here now.

The highway makes the most obnoxious sound through the open windows but the destination is on the horizon.  I’ll just crank the AC.  Nope.  That’s the heater, playing both roles.

Just cause there is sun, doesn’t mean you should be up.  4 is not a time.

It will be gone before we know it, dragged into the realities of book bags, lunch boxes, schedules and tests.

Make sure to let summer know you’re here for her.


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