Summer prattles on like a chorus of croaking frogs about all of its deep pleasures with open desire, while winter indulgently listens, knowing the strength of her own secrets. Parties all unfold this way. Spring tries to enchant, while fall quietly stands by, his eyes glinting with nostalgia that no one quite understands. So, my lovely pond, what more do you offer on this hot, July day? A few minnows skim the underside of the surface in a tangle of protective growth. The bits of daydream we’ve left behind, these minnows know that the sky could drown them. So, the Hebrew for sky means the waters. And water means life, especially in the desert and around its margins. To find the center of heat, the driest spot, the place where even a lizard thirsts, is to find love through its absence. The chorus croaks, winter nods and laughs perfunctorily. Enchantments fail, fall remembers the spell. And I loved you in your presence and your absences,
remembered you in my absences and present. The past falls. The future freezes our bodies. I’ll listen to the summer prattle and dripping water that soothes us all. I’ll fly like a dragonfly just out of reach. And you will sing out loud what we never whispered in the night, pillows muffling our thoughts, the day slipping away yet again.