THE SUMMER SUN

Thursday, August 19, 2010

THE SUMMER SUN

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

The ducks sit contently by the shore of the lake,
All puffed up,
Happily sunning themselves.
I know how they feel.

Two of them stand near me in the sand,
While the tides tickle their webbed feet.
They’re not fearful when they look at me.
I say hello and they turn their heads in my direction.
Wish I had some food to give them.
One of them swims out a little further to join his friends.

The sun beating down feels marvellous on my skin.
A perfect moment in the city.
I’m sitting on my favourite bench,
Four feet from the water.

Further down the beach,
A gaggle of boys swim in the lake,
Their skin burnished by the sun.
The traffic on Lakeshore Boulevard, behind me,
Is like white noise.
It doesn’t bother me.

The slap-slap of the tides
Tingles my innards,
Like an hour of Hatha Yoga.
I feel as if I were lying on a mat in class,
My back against the floor,
Breathing slowly,
With New Age music wafting softly across the room.

The white boats bobble in the water.
I miss the hot sun so much in the winter.
Life would be so different if every month were summer,
Like this.

I could sit on this bench, by the lake,
For endless hours,
Drinking in the warm rays
And listening to the calming sound of the tides.
The gentle clanging of the masts,
Jangling in the breeze,
Sound like Asian wind chimes.

I’m not lonely or sad.
Just sucking in the beauty of mid-August,
In a troubled world,
With a few rain clouds over-head
To keep me grounded on this earth.

The water looks almost white,
From where I sit,
With some swirls of grey.
Life is good,
At this moment,
But tomorrow is another day.