...deserves a quiet night


the last of long wknd of the summer is on its last cusp on est, approaching the proverbial eleventh hour.  labour day weekend is always full of nostalgia and somewhat innocent good byes to the summer things, soon to become memories.  it is the wknd where one puts on a sweater while gathering around the barbeque, smoke of toasting corn dissipating with a hint of cool wind.  it is the night where the late skinny dip into the water graces the beautiful young summer tan skin with a shiver, little prickly goosebumps.  picking up the child from sleepy night protest with dirt between the toes, to tuck in, now with a thinnie blanket over the sheets.

minnow have been canned in the big magic metal bullet across the puddle this afternoon, along with the low clouds and intermittent rain, on a late afternoon glow of the last day of the labour day wknd.

the day he landed was one of the hottest day of the summer in yyz, full of water- water in the air, water by the house. great big ontario lake with its sandy beaches and rolling lake bed stones.  waiting for the storm, brewing ever-so-slowly.  then we had beaches of sand and stones. fragrance of complex curry powders from indian bazaar.  various hops and malts, from golden cloudy wheat dreams to quite philosophical and hoppy bitter, mahogany deep red.  

the big city night view with loads of artificial lights on 32nd floor to the summery balmy night with barely detectable wind across the white-walled holiday lodging in dark.  mosquitoes humming and angry red spots, coming and going. a little summer fair gifts and bright coloured candies. swedish fishes and a new addition-a pink rabbit.  exciting meeting with friends- coming and going. exchange of exclamations and laughters.  a secret handholding under the summer-stained table cloth on a table that is never going to be still.  mutual admirations and a good backhand return of wits between newly-met and once-again-acquainted good people.  the fight of the century to pick up the bills for one another- all kinds of espionage, including slipping of credit cards before the meal, faked toilet exits, to a simple request with smile: please, it would be a pleasure.

the first shucking of corns of a grown boy, getting his hands on the long leaves of the fresh corn, scattering golden corn silk across the kitchen floor.  the excitement of hot funnel cake, lips covered in icing sugar.  the stomach lurching carnival rides and chocolate sticky hands held together with unspoken bond.  the dangling feet on swing carousel, a gentle ride across the dusky summer evening. a long drive on gentle rolling hills on the northern ontario, full of bounties, stopping for baked goods and fresh farm harvests.

once again, summer days full of things that are collected in a dash through the fun- now to be looked in details in reminiscence. minnows illuminating in still dark cool water of september. golden and silvery scales, carefully chosen, now into a scrapbook that one wears, adorning the weaving of life.  

i miss minnow.
i thank minnow.
i thank you all for such beautiful summer days.
i wonder what we will share during the upcoming autumn days.
i smell amber glow of sleeping leaves on the ground, fading into winter.

Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September's coming soon.
I'm pining for the moon.
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum...
(nightswimming, rem, automatic for the people, 1993)


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