i am fascinated
by the darker side of summer
the way that summer is, in some ways
darker than winter,
because the leafy trees create shadowy places
where barren branches would allow light through,
like the moon getting brighter as it darkens,
by virtue of being engulphed in the bright blue sky
the way summer night,
being later in the circadian rhythm of animals,
feels more mystical than winter night, in both its rarity
and its accompanying haze of sleep deprivation.
to go on a night walk in the deep of summer
means being up late
means drinking the intoxicating,
inky mead of warm darkness
which makes your prey-mind
flinch at stirring brambles
and your thoughts turn bleary, eerie,
faerie, and wary
the blood-green of leaves in deep summer,
leaves the color of the august night around them
leaves eaten by bugs
leaves beset with galls
(a body horror for a body not yours)
summer plants met in alleyways or woods
flowers hung heavy with legends and secrets
spirits walking the earth at midsummer.
the way reality in the summer twilight feels so thin,
so easy to slip into the otherworld,
the way swarms of insects seem as apparitions
ghosts or perhaps gods
stories told by flickering firelight
the robin startles you awake at 4am
