To Stop the Tides of Summer

Isaac Hollander McCreery, 18 September 2014

I just can’t get enough of these autumn days:
The kind that wake you up in the morning,
And swaddle your bones in sweaters and jeans.

But I miss things that are bigger.
The May sun, hot, bright, enormous,
And the April mountains, a trembling, bursting cacophony.

I miss the crushing sensation of our love for each other.

“If only we could make it a little further, friend,
To the promised land!
To the promised land!

I could love you like I’ve always wanted,
Let it all out from within,
With your hand In my cold hand.”

I remember your love so well,
I inhaled it and it grew inside of me, welling, swelling,
Breaking my ribs and forcing my heart out of my mouth,
And into yours,
To make room for my lungs.

Autumn is a thing of peace: even the leaves descend and settle.
It’s spring that calls us to the ocean,
To walk along the beach,
Sand white,
Knuckles white,
And try,
Once again,
To stop the tides of summer.