Like The Sun

There’s a feeling one experiences after spending an afternoon sitting underneath a tree thick enough to provide shade while still letting enough light to pass to tan the skin.

I know this feeling.

There’s a certain feeling one experiences when strolling through the woods – or as close to the woods as a city can provide – at a pace three-quarters that of normal.

I know this feeling.

There’s a certain feeling one experiences when spending the morning with a coffee pot and a dog listening to the Songsters compete for property and range.

I know this feeling.

There’s a certain feeling one experiences when wasting a weekend sprawled in the dirt with a pack of water, notebook, and literature within reach.

I know this feeling.

Only two things can consistently elicit these feelings – whether I want them to or not – although one of these is an abbreviation of the other; both are the June sun shining.

This is the second time in my life I’ve confused summer as winter – confused, because this is the second time that there’s no sunshine for me in June.

Far off West, the sun is beating its way up and down the peaks of mountains and across streams – along knife’s edge and through basins – doing up and overs on both side of the divide.

About 12 times will the sun make this journey, and I sit here under my tree waiting for it to come back South – waiting, because this summer is especially cold.

~

Turns out that feeling I know is just like the sun, so this sun will do just fine until mine comes home.

poetryDanny Knesek