The Reckoning of Summer
By Dagne Goodwin
Summer stretches, long and wide,
A patchwork quilt of heat and haze
Some days heavy as a wool coat,
Others cracked open by thunder’s praise.
Mornings start with quiet sips,
Coffee steam and garden tours,
Hen-song and dew-kissed rows,
The bed gets made, the list begins
But time, it hurries through open doors.
Tomatoes blush like bashful brides,
Zucchini plot their takeover.
The beans refuse to wait politely,
And basil bolts like a teenage lover.
It’s a chase now—jars and boiling pots,
Sticky counters, aching backs.
You blink, and it’s August already
School supplies, count fair snacks.
The heat pulls back like a tide,
Days grow shy and shadows long.
A golden hush falls over fields,
And the crickets change their song.
Then, one morning
You feel it in your bones.
Frost tiptoes in and kisses the soil,
Turning carrots into sugar
And parsnips into stew-worthy gold.
It’s over before you know it,
The mad, rich bloom of summer done.
And yet—it feeds the soul all winter.
Preserved in jars,
In memories,
In the marrow of the sun.
