Even though I have a couple of manuscripts floating out in maybe land, I can’t help myself from playing with microfiction…and here is a mini-paean to summertime, for your reading pleasure.
At one time, before the sun got cruel and the winds fierce, we cherished this time of year. We shed our layers and our inhibitions and basked in the same warmth that cracked open the seed pods and coaxed the green up into the tips of the trees. We opened our hearts to fleeting fancy and risked romance that would never occur to us in more buttoned up and battened down seasons. A zephyr would flutter the gauzy curtain above the bed, and we would sigh in the wanton pleasure of it all.
Now, of course, there are risks and regulations. We scan the horizon nervously as we note the weather warnings, the smoke signals, the accumulation of acrid air. We slather on creams, layer up with UV protectors, and cringe in the company of strangers in confined spaces. We mask, we distance, we carry whistles, we pull the blinds.
And yet, amid the prophecies and rubble, the worry and regrets, connections can still be made that cut through the armour and the aches and limitations. We meet the twinkle in another’s eye and once again we can taste the reckless joy of endless summer.
