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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Time to Play

Summer, I’ve been
to your concerts in the rain.
Worn golden shirts.
Exalted at your fireflies.
Watched the full moon
leaven the swelter of the night.

And now it’s August
and there is a shortening of time.
A few more minutes in the morning
before I rise.
The cotton fields of the sky
have been harvested in the dark.
The nonchalant nakedness of June
is clothed.
Your toes are putting on
their sandals.

But this is not where I am.
My life is longer than time,
the tick tock of seasons.
It is the spokes of a radiant wheel.
I can cross the equator
and find summer coming on.
My geodesic stars can leave
earth itself,
and go on forever
making their direction.

I want my summer
to be where it belongs.
Where the sun never goes out.
Where my love comes to the window
and calls,
come out Ted!
And I come out
waving a poem in the air,
hollering as loud as any man can,
when he’s in love.

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