Sometimes I enjoy summer.

I enjoy summer at night
when I look across my yard and see the bright, flashing, fluttering,
neon-like lights appear out of the calm, dark stillness.

I enjoy the drive to North Bend Park,
even if it’s three and a half hours away.
I enjoy waking up with aches,
feeling like a ragdoll drooped over a chair’s arm all night.
From having to sleep on a sagging, half-inflated air mattress.
I enjoy being able to quietly unzip my tent
as if I am slowly running a pick up a guitar string,
being able to almost stealthily sneak over to my sister’s tent
And wake up everyone in my family
by awkwardly tripping into the Roanoke River.

I enjoy tightly lacing up my Keens,
and taking a hike
completely
alone.
Where the only creatures that can hear me
drift forty feet above my head.
The strong, warm wind at the peak of Bearfence Mountain
forces me to keep my eyes shut,
but I keep my eyes open
just to see the treetops ripple across the Shenandoah Valley.