Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Dog Days of Summer
Now it’s summer. Yesterday it was spring. I noticed the change when the heat crossed three figures and the howling started. These are the dog days of summer, the time when the heat oppresses and all the promises I made in the previous seasons are melted in stark still sunlight and woodsmoke from distant range fires.
There’s a dark night of soul in the winter, a ramping up in the spring, and the dog days of summer. They come quick, right on each others heels. Each a reminder of wasted time, a call to action and a roadblock. The fall is the reflection season for me, another temporal trigger where I look and admire, cringe and fear. Each season has these, each reminds me of my death and the work I’ve still undone, the slow-run race, the delay and diversions. Tick tock against the time. Struggle and mire. Feet frozen or melted, muddy or tangled. Tick tock. Run run. Time. Time enough? Time slipping. Sliding. Going to the ground.
Lots I want to do. I’ve made promises. I have commitments to me and others. But the days whiz by, and the heat paralyzes, and I hide in the shade for the weight of it, listening to the baying of time as I travel, work undone, ever faster to the grave.