Connor Stubblefield, M3, Class of 2022
Summer is the time of remembrance.
To know what is coming in the cold winter,
to know what is past in the fresh spring.
New life passes away,
and the cold washes it all away,
prepares the ground for the bulbs to spring up.
Cyclical.
To know one’s passing is to know rebirth.
Summer storms, twisting trunks, bark growling.
The cicadas bud from the ground and paint the air with song.
Bright light, sunbathing on old porches,
the warmth of a black dog against your leg.
The children are all outside, and the pools laugh chlorine laughter
until brief lightning calls it all off, and the trunks twist,
bark growling.
When the earth melts its frost, does it know that it will freeze again?
To grow so brightly.
To love so simply.
Med Intima 