In New England this is a lovely time of year: the days still anticipate the heat and humidity of July and August, and everything is green and full of life. At my parents’ apartment complex, the tree I sat under last Halloween night, all golden yellow and rustling in a warm haunting wind, stands full and proud, its life branches hidden by dark green foliage. Whereas in Arizona the searing heat has brought shimmering skies of azure blue, up here in the northern latitudes, the blue of the sky is gentler and full of cottony clouds. Summertime is here, but the temperatures could be a little warmer.

Nevertheless, June is a fine month, and tonight a perfect opportunity for this lovely poem by Hal Caulfield I found at PoemHunter.com:

June is the sweetest month.
Of the calm and tempest tossed twelve,
June is the fairest of them all.
No rough winds shake the darling buds of May.
And contrary to the Bard’s refrain
Heaven’s eye never shines too hot.
For June is more lovely and more temperate.

I sigh at the thought of her with me.
Here, me basking in her light.
Rays of shine and warmth surround me.
Each gentle breeze a word, a pearl for my delight,
Each smile a sun encrusted day for my affection.
But there are only 30 days in June,
And she is not mine
For even that short length of time.
So, June in not a month.
She is but a happy hope.
A dream that some day
I will bask in the eternal
Sweetness of her smile.

Tomorrow it’s back to Arizona and the heat. But this sweet June interval has been a joy. Four weeks from now (God willing), I’ll be back for a long-anticipated week of vacation and the 20th annual Goodboys Invitational. By then the trees will have started to take on that heavy look and the meadow grasses will have started to turn a little yellow from the dryness and the heat. It will be mid-summer then, and, in Arizona, the start of the monsoon.

Next week will be the longest day of the year. Where has this year gone?