Ahhhhh, June. She presents us with extended golden daylight to fill with barbecues on the deck, lemonade on the porch, wine in the garden, and a stroll around the block. She lengthens those long evenings giving us time we can embrace, enjoy, or fill.
Ah, but June.
In the morning, she becomes mischievous. She awakens the birds with early dawn. Too early, she lets daylight slither through the blinds and between the edges of the curtains of our sleeping chambers. She insists we open our eyes. “Look! Here is more daylight to enjoy. Fill the gift of these long daylight hours,” she beckons.
June, the Sleep Thief.
“It’s a fleeting gift,” she insists. “The hours will begin to fade away before I’m gone.”
“Start now!” she begs. “Get up. Get out. Summer is coming. Let the child in you go play.”
I want to bury my head in the pillow, but her insistence is stubborn.
I sit with my coffee on the balcony and watch the sky change from navy blue to baby blue.
She’s right. It’s a beautiful gift.
© Karen S Justice
