Friday, April 04, 2008

Letter to summer.

Letter to summer

April 08

I am dreaming of you already, with your far fewer clothes
and longer light. I am driving already to Idaho
and the river where there will be fish I do not wish
to catch and in any case cannot. I am already in Seattle,
drinking iced tea and reading the too many books
I’ve brought piled upon the too many new ones
I’ve just bought. I am already sweating a little.
I am stepping outside at ten in the just-dark to hear
the little swell of crickets and perhaps to smell
the sweet phlox. I’m waking to a wet world,
to plants, to the cars and their surge on the highway.
I am filling my hands with herbs and leaves,
I am cutting flowers and leaving still more on the stem.
I am eating cherries from the tree because the birds
have spared them and I am up early to find the berry
under the leaf. I am in and out like the dog, like him
I want the sun and then I want to retreat
from it. I have already turned on the fan which whirs
over the bed. I’m sleeping with just a sheet.
I am writing to you, summer, to say, please save me
a space on your agenda. Do not overbook. Please plan
to take all afternoons off (also Fridays, and some Mondays).

Yours sincerely,


  1. Me too!!
    Nice poem!

  2. Love love LOVE this. I want to spend summer at your house.



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