Untitled ruminations upon the cyclic nature of arriving and departing seasons

Summer is here, again
 
Is it the failings of memory, coupled with the repeat of routine, blurring together, that causes time to slip away, is it our natural predisposition to exist most potently in the present moment, or perhaps the ever changing nature of all things, manifest in this swift seeming passage of our lives and awareness through time
 
Perhaps it is time that passes through and over us, sands that shear away the smooth features to coarse lines, crags and pocks, the continual procession of hellos and goodbyes, good mornings and good nights, like waters, their course a steady pendulum over stone
 
Nights are humid, here, it clings uncomfortably to the skin, dampens everything with its fetid breath
 
I open the back door, opaque clouds of varying density cruise smoothly over the bright face of the moon, causing its light to wax and wane
 
Now, I lay here, in the solitude and sometimes solace of the night, and summon the faces of those who've departed my life, flashing before my mind's eye in brief glimpses of memory
 
A smile, a snatch of laughter at some forgotten amusement, wind blown hair as we drove to a forgotten destination, only a ghost of you remains, sunlight glare, obscuring your eyes, footsteps departing, doors close behind
 
So it's summer, again
 
Days lengthen, casting long, lean shadows against ground, phantoms of refracted heat waiver in the air, fireworks sound, dully in the distance, cook fires throw shifting curtains of shadow, music dances on winged heels, between the eaves
 
I, here, casting shadows of another sort with these ruminations upon the cyclic nature of arriving and departing seasons
 
Waves rush to slap the shores and retreat again with a sigh
 
Good morning. Good night. Hello. Goodbye.
 
Daniel