Let the summer teach me

Like the sky, be wide. Massive and always present.  Shift and move, calibrating your speed and spin to the circumstance.  You are allowed to shine.  You are allowed to float dreamily.  You are allowed to hover and drop a deluge. 

Like a cloud, realize that everything evaporates and transforms.  Shift, billow, fill, roil, darken. Or be pure white.  Refuse to become static.  Fix your gaze, not your being.  You can be amorphous and fluid.  Change.

Like the sun, know that part of you burns intensely.  Is always burning, sending out flares.  There is no night for the sun.  Stoke the fire, blow smoke.  Send up a signal.  Be warmth, be hot.  Stir and be stirred. Engage, create friction. Give your light away without hesitation or preference.  Do not apologize for the space you take up.  Let people be drawn to you, orbit you.  It’s okay to step into the center.

Like the grass, grow. Propagate, cultivate.  Mow when you need to, trim away the hairy parts.  Coiffed or tangles, present yourself in many ways.  Fertilize yourself; you know what you need to flourish.  Be flat, be ordinary, rest still. Go dormant if it gets too hot. Get weedy, bust out in clover.  Every aberration is acceptable.  What needs to happen in you will happen. 

Like the flowers, be expectant.  Know the sun will shine, the rain will fall, the soil will be nourished.  You are part of an amazing cycle that feeds itself. Relax. Gluttonously seek southern light. Flush the landscape with color. Be a subtle or saturated hue.  Seed yourself and, if that’s not possible, gather pollinators. Prune and pinch away.  Give yourself room to spread; know you will get bigger.  You are meant to expand, meant to be noticed. Bring pleasure to place.   Be cut and tied into a bouquet. Let yourself be the first gift of love.