Summer

Jack McCall, Writer

Summer

By Jack McCall

 

 The sun peaks over the horizon, looking down upon the valley with a smile of warmth.

The brisk cold that slowly warms lets the mountains know

The day has started.

 

And the mountains, they wake the trees 

With a light breeze;

Caressing them,

Soft as a mother’s hand.  

 

And the trees, with rustling leaves and pine needles and branches,

Break the animals out of their slumber. 

Rodents and snakes and badgers

Burst out of every hole,

Every nook and cranny.

Filling every void

With life.

 

Owls hoot

Rabbits bolt between trees and through logs and over rocks

The birds sing their song of joy

Of despair

Of a million lost souls

As 

 

Another day is upon the world.