One day, one summer
by Diane Lapsley

    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
    in our seersucker pajamas
    and that summer
    sublime summer
    would never

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