Summer Nights and Days
by Rachel Hadas
So far the nights feel lonelier than the days.
In light, the living keep me company,
and memories of voices through the years.
Each summer threads a green familiar maze.
Emerging sun-struck, you can barely spy
the slow kaleidoscope of clouds and hours.
Those flannel nightshirts chilly sleepers wear
as summer wanes: I’m giving them away.
Pass it on: you keep at the same time.
A bough has broken from the Duchess tree.
Rain swelled the apples. Too much lightness weighs
heavy: the heft of the idea of home
tempered with the detachment of a dream,
or tidal pulls, like ocean, like moonrise.
“The chains of habit are generally too small to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.” — Samuel Johnson
“Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.” — Carl Gustav Jung
“Those who flee temptation generally leave a forwarding address.” — Lane Olinghouse
“Opportunity may knock only once, but temptation leans on the doorbell.” — Unknown
“Just cause you got the monkey off your back doesn’t mean the circus has left town.” — George Carlin