July Rain (Nothing Lasts Forever)

For newcomers,

the first summer spent

away from home

(warmer and colder parts

of the country or globe)

begins in grumbling:

Jackets in late June!

Three straight days of rain,

It’s July!

Where is the sun?

Some who grew up here

suffer from an annual amnesia,

every July they marvel
at the unseasonable wet.

But I remember Fourth-of July’s

spent shivering under a wool blanket

damp from drizzle,

waiting for fireworks to finish

so we could pile into a minivan,

crank the heat, and go home.

I remember red and yellow leaves

against blue skies,

swimming in late September,

crisp and tan lawns

waiting for October

to finally bring back the grey.

Summers here are often tardy

but seldom truant—though

it is September 27^th,

and I’m in shorts and t-shirt:

I wonder how well I’ll remember

in a raincoat in mid-July.