Summer in the mountains
ribbons of pale sun wrapped around
handfuls of gossip and huckleberries
at the shore of the lake
my grandmother
all chenille and sensibility
would make pancakes
the first letters of our names
initial pancakes, she called them
and my grandfather would say
then how do you make them last?
and no one would get the joke
and the plume from his pipe
cherrywood and ash
would rope around his head
embracing him and
closing him in and away
summer in the mountains
lemonade and lazy afternoons
my mother and her sisters
freckled and vodka gimleted
seeking asylum in the greenwood
as their children would run around them
cowboys and indians
pirates and damsels
adventurers and dreambuilders
always something other than
what we really were
summer in the mountains
music of the evening
filling the air
children's laughter and
crickets calling and
my father wondering
looking at the stars and wondering
what would become of his children
galaxies exploding into life
inside us
beneath ages-old constellations
cygnus, the swan, soaring high over head
drinking from the milky way
and sagittarius, the archer
firm in his vision
and sure in his aim
while we children drowsed at lake's edge
watching fish leap
and listening to the loons crying for their mates
summer in the mountains
the days ended as they began
soft light, softer voices
the grown-ups drinking and dreaming
as we sailed our dreamboats away
knew that we were
cherished
in our seersucker pajamas
and that summer
sublime summer
would never
end
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