i came across a poem set in the summer. i like it because it articulates the anticipation and possibility of the season. for some reason, the summer has always meant endless possibility to me. and we are just at the beginning...!
i tried each thing, only some were immortal and free.elsewhere we are as sitting in a place where sunlightfilters down, a little at a time,waiting for someone to come. harsh words are spoken,as the sun yellows the green of the maple tree. . . .
so this was all, but obscurelyi felt the stirrings of new breath in the pageswhich all winter long had smelled like an old catalogue.new sentences were starting up. but the summerwas well along, not yet past the mid-pointbut full and dark with the promise of that fullness,that time when one can no longer wander awayand even the least attentive fall silentto watch the thing that is prepared to happen.
—from john ashbery's "as one put drunk into the packet-boat"
it is FINALLY friday.