This is my psalm to the Summer;
to the warm winds that dance in the long grass
and moves it like stormy seas.  To the ebb of
night’s chill and the whitewash paint the moon throws
on the skin of the earth.  To the fuzzy

flesh of the peach and the first sour splash of
plum on your perfect lips.  The daylight that lingers
and wraps around your hair like a halo before dipping
below the dry mountains in the distance.  The heat burns us

now and stains red the parts you leave for the sun to
kiss.  The red to brown and the emergence of freckles
on faces and a lightness to your hair.  To my hands inklessly
drawing on the naked arch of your back.  To the promises.  The
promises of surviving the hottest season.

This is my Summer psalm and this is my serenade to
you.  We’ll sit on porches in chairs that rock and we’ll watch
the lightning as it flirts with me again.  To the sound of ice cubes
clinking sweaty glasses and the slice of lemon
floating inside it.  The way you look when you smile at

me as I walk away.  To the sound of trains and church bells
echoing through the clear night air.  This is my psalm to
the smell of creek beds and wet towels, the sound of
laughter later into the nights as the light keeps the kids
awake.  The stars move above us slower

now and the meteors come to remind us that we too,
are floating in blackness.  The trail of light they leave
will never leave us.  The crickets sing and we don’t need to
understand their lyrics.  This is my serenade to the heat that
beat the frost but will fall again to the cool Autumn air

knocking on its doorstep.  To the final brave salutation of the leaves
and their shining in the sunlight.  To your skin peeking out of
clothes hidden in closets for too long.  This is to how rainbows follow
us and make us forget the rain that fell before them. To the panting

dogs and ladybugs crawling on garden leaves.  This is to how the
Earth wakes up and plays along.  To the grasshoppers parting
like Biblical seas when you walk through their homes.  This is to the
promise of love, through heat or freeze, green grass or brown and no matter
the color of the clouds in our sky.

This is my Summer psalm, this is my serenade to you.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-