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Summer Stars

Boundary Pass, 2:34 am, last summer.
Summer Stars
Bend low again, night of summer stars.
So near you are, sky of summer stars,
So near, a long-arm man can pick off stars,
Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl,
So near you are, summer stars,
So near, strumming, strumming,
                So lazy and hum-strumming.

— Carl Sandburg

It is summer, now, definitively. But it has felt like summer for weeks. The weather has already created that languorous feeling in the afternoons, the heat. The sound of people on the beach, memories of popsicle juice dribbling down my chin. Or the smell of fried onions on the fairway at the PNE.

The novelty of the spring birdsong worn off, but still uplifting when I remember to listen. The splash of water, the dunking chill of an evening swim.

In the summer days, you can be go-go-go, camping and cooking over a fire, swimming and outdoor sports in the enterprise of a vacation. Or easeful in the shimmering afternoon heat, watching boats from a chaise longue, a summer novel flopped on your chest. Or the scent of summer flowers in the cool evening, the closeness of stars in the big night sky.

A Reverie!

Last Friday morning, I left Mildrith alone for a moment to do her magic with the loaves of bread. I walked out to the prow of our property. It was early, dark, the easeful kind of summer. A freighter passing silently through Boundary Pass, waves lapping against the rocks below. The beckoning of the flashing red radio towers atop Orcas Island.

The big sky and infinite stars drew my gaze, the darkness behind the shimmering points of light. The stars seeming to flicker imperceptibly, like movement seen from the corner of my eye, turning still when I tried to focus.

Indeed, those stars seemed close, like those in Sandburg’s “Summer Stars.” It was as if I could reach up and scoop in a bunch and shake them in my hand like a bit of sand. And the lull of the stars, the night and the “hum-strumming.” I was in a dream, large enough to pick a star out of the sky but small enough against the heavens to be meaningless, nothing.



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