By some reckonings today is the first of summer;
the missed opportunities of April fading mist,
as this cool breeze disappears in oppressive heat.
Let’s rise above dwelling there. All that’s lost
returns in memories, revolutions, maybe wisdom;
the blizzard, flooded river, rising tides drop in time.
If spring were eternal, or even a day longer, berries
now ripening from green to blue and red would taste
less sweet; juvenile folly never learn honest sweat.