Sparkling water drifts lazily around the bend
as tree branches dip their limbs into the current, letting it flow between
the weathered cracks of bark and leaves.
In the distance, one can hear loud giggling as tubes come around the corner.
the laughter turns to squeals of elation
as the girls, carefully balanced on their rubber floats, plunge into
the icy white of the rapids.
the girls' screams of delight end as they unclench their fists
and finish their ride,
clambering onto the nearby shore
dripping excitement
and liquid sunshine
back into the fountain of youth.
Summertime is the Groveland rapids.
The guitar's fervent refrain wafts through the entranced crowd,
the tune tickling each ear as it weaves in and out of the throng.
young couples smile
and softly sing sweet lyrics to one another
as they lie together under the stars
impervious to society
on blankets of indifference.
Suddenly,
flashes of blazing white streak the sky, causing me to sit up, agape.
i listen for the storm's trademark voice--
the thunder--
but acoustic strings are the only soundtrack i hear.
i slowly lie back down as I realize
i'm witnessing a show of
empyrean harmony:
mother nature's beauty,
God's talents given to men of music
and friends that make your heart sing.
Summertime is concerts, love, and summer storms.
A few days later, two girls walk up a grassy knoll
and through some buildings
to a tall edifice overlooking the valley.
They climb to the top as the sun gets lower,
the secret rooftop serenade beginning as they arrive.
They sit in contented silence
watching
as the sun dips to kiss the summit good night.
The girls talk about life, love,
and friendship,
their conversation deepening with the dusk
and ending as the first star begins to twinkle.
They descend from their celestial hiding spot
and walk home for the night,
slowly letting the memories soak in.
Summertime is friendship.
summertime is life the way it is supposed to be lived
summertime is happiness
summertime is nirvana
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