I dream of long, warm Summer nights.
The smell of barbecue wafting through the air.
The sun setting slowly behind the Rocky Mountains,
lighting up the early evening sky.
Crickets are just beginning their twilight symphony.
The dog is barking at nothing in particular,
happiness showing itself in the swift wag of his tail.
We sit on the back porch,
savoring the charcoal smells,
and the pitcher of margaritas sweating on the table.
Soon enough, Summer will give way to Fall,
painting the earth in a plethora of colors.
Rusts and yellows,
umbers and ochers.
The creamy color of a butternut squash.
The night will fall quickly,
cloaking the city in dark, cool breezes,
slowly preparing us for the skeletal iciness of Winter.
As animals and insects begin hunkering down,
gathering what they need to survive the season,
pumpkins appear on every front step.
Children grow excited at the prospect of candy;
of dressing up like their favorite ghoul.
And like a ghost,
the first snowflakes make their appearance,
gently wetting the ground.
From jack-o-lanterns to turkeys,
Fall gives way to Winter,
wrapping us in crisp, milky veils.
The frigid nights lengthen,
broken up only by holiday spirits.
Bejeweled pine trees and crackling fires,
lazily leading us into the first sweet sights of Spring.
A tender, green shoot,
arising, Lazarus-like,
from the thawing ground.
Flowers opening slowly,
petal by petal.
Bees and bears rising groggily from their slumber.
The air smells sweet and crisp,
as it blows gently through our hair.
And before we know it,
we are wiping off our lawnchairs,
and basking in the Summer sun.

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