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Love Letter of Summer

By Cherbo Geeplay

Summer is yet to come and may
never come. She's stirring in an
August noon, sitting on the long
plateaus of these fields so far
       from our grasp. The rice
       fields are silent amidst
these thick woods as
the moon loans her
radiance, her silver
glow hovers over the
lagoons. Beloved, see the
treasures you left, bathed
       by the monsoon rains, 
whetting our appetites as
we await the rising sun.
Sullen, sad, the train was
never meant to stop here.
       But the tears of the clouds,
which began yesterday in earnest, 
still exalt the souls of our musing
thoughts mingled with the divine 
wisdom given by the ancestors, 
needing no light to welcome 
the blooms that sprout on 
these coveted lovely crops.
                    ll
O Toni, you are gone too? 
For you are the Carnation 
of Ohio; the love letter of 
summer cuddling the rainfall.
That bright tulip we all wished 
was had, capped to the longing
       breasts of our jackets, the 
cranberry that spread her 
indigo blues thrust upon 
us, swaying the nomadic
revelers drinking from 
your fountain. Why abandon
your guests, you violet pedagogic
         messenger? Your furnished 
truths are heaped upon our 
collars and shoulders now, 
gliding with the wind, crossing 
continents on the quick leaping 
hooves to a canter, a starved
antelope in search of her groove, 
looking for the green patches 
        which you groomed.
               lll
O Toni, the faint waves
of the enduring riverbanks 
are roaring, grey, to the 
erudite laughs of your 
          volumes, the golden
sun of Africa’s savannah weeps.
The splendor of your aura is
now washed on these desolate 
beaches by a massive storm 
blowing over these still hills,
as we hold back the emotions
that come to us against the
the blowing winds. In her 
tarnished lust for fury,
death blasting with 
         thunder, stealing our 
sad hearts. So it is too, as 
the evening swallows the 
sunset, the roaming cavalier 
of cold gloom razes flares of 
fires, devouring the forest's 
leaves pitching her dark fork 
on the land once more, and 
tomorrow again! Beloved, 
you are the pearl of the calm 
seas, the lilies of the valleys.
(February 18, 1931–August 5, 2019
Toni Morrison)

Copyright © Cherbo Geeplay

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Book: Shattered Sighs