It's SUMMER! OFFICIALLY! Goodbye, shoes! Hello, sandals!
Not in the office, you say? Very well. But we'll celebrate anyway!
To kick off summer, this Poetry Friday's selection is a slice of sun-dappled nostalgia, a trip back to summers past.
Please enjoy Kay Smith's "On Sundays in Summer" (from Coastlines: The Poetry of Atlantic Canada).
On Sundays in Summer
On Sundays in summer when I was a child,
The air was gold all over in one unfolded wing.
I waded deep in grass and heard the church bells ring,
And wildflowers spilt their small enamelled gaze on everything.
Ladies' heels clicked softly in the hushed, prim street.
Prayer books blinked, gilt-edged, on white kid gloves.
I thought there was nothing more like little folded doves
Peeping out of sun-splotched taffeta sleeves.
The streetcars had Sunday manners. They made a faint sound
Like dim waves breaking on a Bible-picture shore;
Bliss was sucking peppermints, as ladies stirred the air
Into lovely coloured breezes when the world was young in war.