SUMMER & SPRING

 Summer afternoon-summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English Language. 

~Henry James 

I live in a place where summer and spring collides like two lovers who are unconditionally in love. I was never able to segregate SUMMER & SPRING in dichotomy,rather,i have always seen the two of them as one single entity,inseparable from the other, bound to be together, eternally lost in romance. To me, together they emanate a sense of a strange lovable feeling,a dream every poets dream of; content in chaos and a brief moment of solace.

It might be foolish of me to say that i still do not see summer and spring quite distinctively. To me, they are like the horizon, like how it appears that the sky meets the ocean, but they actually never meet.  

The sun is brightest to the fullest. I see vibrant flowers standing firmly with ease and bees humming in great ecstacy. The wind carries warm air, the sky painted in its finest azure, the clouds whiter and loftier than ever, the small streams playfully tossing through the pebbles, the meekest glint on the shallows when it is touched by the wind causing calm scintillating waves, the sunglint reflection dancing on my face and the occasional sound of the rustling leaves...reminds me how marvellously the summer and spring lives together, reshaping my life in subtle colours of poetry and contemplation. 

All of these magical words are indeed a poet's delight, the nuances of every little things often unnoticed by others,or to delicately put in Sylvia Plath's words "the gifts for a young poet". 

My forehead gets laden with trickling perspiration and the palms become oily, yet, i look for some more metaphors and realism, which iam about to amalgamate into a series of words. 

Here they come, 

Summer and spring, 

holding each other, 

a medley they sing. 

Golden sunsets i love to witness, 

flower crowns i solemnly wear, 

bare feet on the brown grass, 

i sat with a paper and poetic flare. 

Pondering and pondering, 

pursing my lips, 

toes curling, 

words reaching my finger tips. 

"You two are alike, 

like the fraternal twins,

but one bestows the glaring heat, 

the other just blooms and always wins."

Unaware of the passing time, 

with cavernous thoughts as i write, 

the zephyr touch my feet cold, 

oh dear, it is almost twilight. 

Photo~ Albarran Cabrera

A note to the READERS~

This piece was highly intuitive like my other blog. I dont know whether writing about these fleeting feelings must come with a purpose or not,but if you have read it, if you have tried to understand it, then give yourself a moment, just to perceive how summer in your place looks like.