May Day

This weekend I smelled summer- that sweet, grassy scent- a product of earth and heat and leaf. I saw the year's first firefly on Saturday and had a close encounter with a butterfly this Sunday afternoon. The rains set the creeks running and made ponds of unsuspecting lowlands. Lightning, thunder, stifling humidity. Sweat, sunburn, bare feet. Foggy mornings, cool nights, long days. The roses haven't wasted any time in  coming out and the honey suckle is muscling it's way through the underbrush. Tornadoes, winds, and hail have played their games and left their battle scars- the trees tattered like dismembered centurions. This the violent, volatile beauty of the southern summer.