Midsummer 2019, we brave to dream of new horizons though the days have been hotter than comfortable, and the nights offer little relief. Were it not for our memories of September breezes moving against us as we walk down the street, we would not be focused on the future with such intent.
At the end of July I went to Governer's Island for the first time, though I have lived in New York City for about 30 years. The draw was a poetry festival. Luckily, though I was late, I arrived just in time to hear one of the most interesting poems I have ever heard: Maid Poem #7: HR, by Jan-Henry Gray. A couple of hours later when the festival was over, we met waiting for the ferry (the only way on and off the island). He graciously answered my questions about poem length and told me about writing the best part of the poem on the third page, though when starting out, writing a three-page poem seemed excessive.
I know, because I have learned from experience, that there is always more to be found if you stay with something and keep looking inside. There is always more that can be grown, discovered. But knowing that doesn't eliminate the mystery of when and how, and why. Living remains an adventure no matter the season.