December 11, 2013
Sometimes, when the days outside get dark and chilly and I spend my days cooped up inside studying for finals that I just want to be over and done with, I get nostalgic for the days of summer.
Warm days. When I could walk outside in the dirt without any shoes; when in the afternoon a dip in the lake is refreshing rather than hypothermia-inducing (yes, some people up here still jump in the lake in the winter; this suicidal tendency has been dubber the "polar plunge"); when bonfires are aesthetic rather than essential at ten at night.
So, in remembrance of the days of summer, I wrote a small passage describing a small moment in summertime that I find myself missing now, in the dark of winter.
On Sunny Afternoons By the Lake
Sunlight glinting off the water,
Gently warming every surface,
Slowly browning all my skin.
The breeze flicking through my notebook,
Gently stirring through my hair.
The water slapping 'gainst the cliff side,
Slowly crashing in the air.
Steady crunching of my crackers,
Silent slurping of my glass.
Is it green or is it blue?
Look more closely,
Nothing there.
Sizzle slowly in the sunlight,
Pad with caution down the dock.
Far off rumbling of the motor,
Gliding swiftly through the water,
Each splash glistening mid-air.
Gradual release of all my tension,
Each vertebrae popping
At the ease
Of long-stiff muscles in my shoulders,
Down my back,
Like clicking keys.
Note: I would like to make a disclaimer right now that I have never, nor shall I ever, understand the form and function of poetry. Any choices I made in writing and formatting this quote-on-quote "poem" (read quotation mark hand gestures) were made for no other reason than I simply thought it looked better that way. Thank you.
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