by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water,
Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light,
Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter...
Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night.
Walking alone ... was it splendor, or what, we were bound with?
Deep in the time when summer lets down her hair?
Shadows we loved and the patterns they covered the ground with
Tapestries, mystical, faint in the breathless air.
Summer has let down her hair at my house. July has been a month of pause, like the small delay at the end of a long slow inhale before your breath naturally turns around and rises to the chest. I've taken time in this pause to look back over the last six months and simmer in the juices of intention. Resolution was my one little word for the year. Am I moving toward resolution as I had hoped? I like making this little evaluation before fall whisks me into a swirl of activity. I want a few more slow, easy breaths before I move on.
Wishing you the lilt of water, radiant dreams, and the chance to be unafraid as you move forward into whatever lies ahead. Take a deep breath and visit Margaret at Reflections on the Teche for today's Roundup.