July

July

Is not a month

It is a time without definition

A time to pause and reflect

Upon the seasons grown full blown

Against the backdrop of our lives.

It is the laughter of children

Splashing in the water

Brown skin and bright eyes

Gathering the delight of discovery

The wonder of what is

And can be.

July is the softness of the sunshine

Playing with fanciful clouds

Backlighting a tremulous aspen

Bringing sparkles to the pine boughs

In the perfection

Of blue sky.

It is puffs rising from our hiking boots

On a dusty stretch of trail

Testing our mettle

On a difficult climb

Step by step

Until we reach our goal.

July is meadows set in stone valleys

With gardens no man could tend

Filled with worlds of newborn creatures

Learning the gift of life and joy

In the unrestrained

Song of a bird.

It is a high mountain pass

With wilderness stretching

Range upon range of towering peaks

Caught for a few precious moments

In a delicate alpine flower

Clinging to the rocks for its life.

It is waterfalls cascading

Down tumbled granite cliffs

Into sparkling indigo lakes

That some ancient giant has

Carved to make us ponder

What beauty truly is.

July is a time together

For friendship and love to grow strong

For creating happy memories

For bear tales and mosquito yarns

And time-honored stories

Of more youthful days recalled

It is absorbing Earth’s strength

And fragile gentleness

In moments of awe and wonder

Discovering our place in the universe

So fortunate

So small.

July is not a month

It is the reawakening of the senses

A time of discovering ourselves

And the eternity that lies beyond us

July is the nectar of our being

The very essence of life itself.