These are the victories of the light, when dark skies hide from sight,
The garden explodes each dawn with new feats of bright,
This is the realm of the sun in the morning and thunderheads
At noon, virga streaks over the Divide, and shining nights
So soft and still as unsuspected glances and unscripted romances;
We’re sure to miss July’s kiss when the wind screams
In from the North and the light ebbs and fades, but the
Magic will linger like a note drawn out by a singer,
A chance to wait for the long days once more…