A Prayer For Summer

I sat under the willow tree
That stood on the hill
Overlooking my little village.
The wind was blowing through the leaves
And I let the sound
Fall effortlessly around me.

Summer was just around the corner,
I had closed my text books
For the last time ages ago
And I had written my last exam
That day. Instead of home
My feet led me to the willow tree.

I waited patiently
For the wind to die down
And for silence to reign.
When everything was still,
Even the birds in the tree
Held their tune, I clasped my hands
And said my prayer for summer.

I prayed that
I would have as much fun
As I could possibly have
From sunrise to sunset.
And that I may sleep
Fitfully as the moon
Traveled across the sky
So I could have more fun
The next day.

I prayed that
I would laugh more
Than I did the last time
And that my smiles
Would be brighter
Than the sun above
And my body would
Exert more energy
Than that same sun.

And when I get too hot,
I prayed that there
Would be countless visits
To the pond and to the beach
To cool me down, and
If no body of water be available,
May there be ice cold ice pop
To cool me from within.

But I did not only pray
For this summer only,
I prayed for the summers
Yet to come. From those
That will still find me playing
To those where I will be
Locked away in the world
Of paychecks and bills.
I prayed that I will be able
To look back at these summers of fun
And revel in the memories.

I prayed for the summers
When work is a distant memory
And I am too tired to play any more,
But I still go out and sit in the sun
And it gives me enough energy to
Rock my rocking chair as
 I listen to my grandchildren play.

I prayed that when I die,
I die during the summertime,
That my last breath is
Of the warm summer breeze,
That my last experience
Be wrapped up in
The trappings of summer.

And as easily as my prayer began,
It ended with a quiet amen.
As I opened my eyes,
I see a friend from school
Walking home, I ran down
To catch up with him, a cloud
Of dust in my wake.

If I had stayed sitting under
The willow tree,
I would have noticed the wind
Had started to blow through
The leaves of the great tree,
And instead of its usual melody,
I would have heard my prayer
Repeated over and over again.

If I had stayed
I would have heard my prayer
Repeated back in the song
Of the birds in the tree.

And from then on
At the beginning of summer,
One would find me
Under the willow tree,
Hands clasped, eyes closed
Saying out loud
My prayer for summer.
And every summer
I would make my prayer
A reality.