that month of expectancy
with its endings that evolve into beginnings
that later become endings once again.
with its walks of innocence
down sacred aisles of churches or school auditoriums,
with its walks on college campuses along grassy paths
between rows of white folding chairs.
with its steps propelled by hope
that could dissolve like sweet ice cream if we let it,
hope that could fall like confetti littering pathways,
glitter now gone,
turned into celebratory party detritus the following morning,
all traces of possibility swept away.
with its sultry heat leading to the torrential rains of summer,
to occasional winds of destruction,
to refreshing cooling breezes,
finally reaching us years later as we sit on porches,
rocking movement like a childhood lullaby,
wondering if somewhere there is someone young
who walks still with footsteps of hope
toward a happiness beyond June
which is all any of us really wanted out of life anyway.
© Barbara Flass 2013