The Last Winds Of Spring

I can feel the last sweet winds of spring. The mornings have been cloudy and cool, the sun peeks out in gentle tenderness by noon. A soft and fragrant breeze teases the leaves of the Mulberry 

Tree. When I speak on the telephone in the garden, my companions say it is like talking to someone in an aviary. Yesterday morning, the Mulberry Tree was filled with green parrots, squawking and feasting on the last of the Mulberries. Every time I looked into the branches, I spotted another richly hued parrot, nose tucked in, devouring mulberries. 

I know the height of summer is going to reach it's hot, parched hand down into Southern California any minute now. The asphalt is going to blaze in blurred lines and walks will need to be taken just before the sun peeks out, or right after it sinks in the western sky. I am trying to savor these sweet, gentle days. I am trying to place them in my bank, so my spirit will be cooled by the breeze I feel upon my face this very moment.

I love summer, I am a child of summer. I can easily take refuge in the cool ocean waters. But this, this breeze, this birdsong. I want to remember it always.