Summertime

Summer.
The time of golden
Skies and green trees.
The respite in between
Harsh cold, and white
Storms, and strict
Mentors.
A short chirp
From the song bird.

We know her
As an adventure,
Or a
Romance.
Sometimes even as
Growth, of the
Personal variety.

Her time,
Appreciated most by
Youth even younger
Than I.
Those still experiencing
The brief burble
Between childhood and
The adult realm.

Barley a few years
Apart, and the two
Are split so finely.
By only a few,
Small details.
Hopes, that they
Spend this freedom
Kindly.
Until they find,
Like me…

When summer,
Is over.