This past year has taken a lot from so many. Most of the loss has been obvious--tragic, tangible. Other losses have been more like the heat out of a drafty window--largely unnoticed until one is alone in a room and the chill is highlighted by the absence of distraction. In some of the quiet calm of this summer's vacation days I felt myself feeling the loss of a year and a half of childhood for every child in the world--and more personally my own. No matter how fortunate, innocence was lost this past year along with the care-free nature that is the hallmark of youth. It is as if my vision was so blurred by all that has transpired, I now look up to discover I missed some of the tailwinds of childhood as they swept by. My children continued to grow though time seemed to stand still for so many of us. They have grown in so many ways! This poem helped funnel those feelings through and out. There is so much we have not yet processed and that only quiet, contemplative time can yield. There is much to lament and it is important that we all allow ourselves the time and space to do so. It's a healthy, albeit unpleasant and often awkward, part of the natural grieving process.

Summer. Sit. Sways to and fro -- already tomorrow. Drip. Tic. Drop. Tok. Sticky, sweet, slow -- honey. Swollen with time -- basking. Then switch. Flip. Tic. Fly. Tok. Did, do, done -- heat. Evaporating days, catching. Rising or setting? Giving or getting? Summer, stepping out here and there -- yesterday. Ride the waves. Fade into the haze. The legend of Summer Days . . .