Open Letter to August

     Is it really you again, dear?  It seems to me still so recent when we parted ways that eve of last September, how strange when I realize an entire year has come and gone since.  I've grown older, but somehow you still seem the same in my eyes - reckless, daring, youthful, full of all things bright and promising - just as you always are.

     When I was a child you were always my favorite, like a friend one looks forward to chumming with while on holiday, counting down the days until you arrived.  Hoping when you did that this time you would stay longer, perhaps never leave at all.  But time and again you spin me through your whirlwind of excitement, careless of time, oh so fleeting, careless that Summer's magnificent concerto is nearing its finale.

 
     I regret to say, my dear, that you behave rather like a rogue, yet despite this I will leave off reprimanding you for it.  Even if I could find the proper words with which to scold you I know it would do no good, for you would take them lightly, with a giggle and a wink, and be off again in twirls.  Perhaps it is this very roguishness that allows me to pardon you again year after year.  Perhaps it makes you somehow, in spite of your foolishness, endearing, a quality I have commonly found among most rogues of my acquaintance.

     Regardless of your faults, I confess that I remain still very fond of you, although not in the same way as when I was child.  I know now that you will not stay forever.

     Still I dance to your merry whirlwind and enjoy doing so, however now I am ever conscious that just as the golden summertime, no dance can last forever, but eventually must end and give way to the next.  Until then, let the crescendo rise, your dance has begun.

Devotedly Yours,

~Emma