Dreams of Summer, Now Forlorn

As the days drift closer to an end, they lengthen in stride. Each minute trapped in the schools chamber grows darker to the sunlight sky out the barred windows. Every ceaseless minute crawls into the next in slow melding agony. All attentions shift to the tentative comings of freedom.

The sound of a muted trumpet echoes in the inner ear of students in lecture, but all that is heard is the cry of happy days to come once more. We wait with bated breath as the coming of summer breathes life into the frost bitten mountain side, yet has none to spare for its suffocating children trapped in their education. The day causes dreams of its own namesake during classes that speak of the burning science of a G2V star when most would rather be outside experiencing the rays of its true glory. The same class tells of a scattering of light refracting dust, while another teacher speaks an ode to its heavenly blue glory, but it could matter less when all you want is to be free to run over the fields of chloroplast rich blades growing beneath it all.

Instead, we are here. The short-term brings only desires of a long summer, but the perpetuity these long hours swing into the pendulum of our later lives. Working in this present eternity is working for the betterment of the future of our lives. Nobody wants to wade through the unwanted scraps of the year when all that is longed for is the dessert that is summer. Even so, everything the year has lead up to and been done for should not be discarded in place of a longing lust for summer vacation.

Not even for the crisp breeze over the rolling blue hills where the sun walks on the open grassy fields, awaiting your return….

By Jon Harmor