The Cycles of Summer

Her name was Summer. She was gifted with the ability to create laughter, to radiate warmth, and to bring folks together. The sunshine was her happiness, and her heartbeat pumped party anthems harder than Naughty by Nature.

Year after year, she would fall for those boys who would take of their shirts to bask in her warmth. She tried desperately to seduce them with her warm gentle breezes, cooling licks from backyard hoses, and midnight displays of her moons and stars, but was always disappointed as they took her for granted, and paraded their other lovers before her.

As her sadness grew, the days began to shorten. The laughter of the people became less frequent, and Summer's warmth began to chill. In her wake, even the trees began to tremble in fear, losing their leaves in vivid shades of reds and golds. The once hot party anthems were now cool riffs from saxophones, trumpets, and piano keys.

Heartbroken and desolate, day after day, her life became colder than the snows of winter, her words no longer buzzed and chirped with life. Now, they just hung in the air in symmetrical, crystalline forms. There was even the occasional moment when her heart was so cold, that even her whispers would have passersby doubled over, guarding against their harshness.

One day, the red breast of a robin caught her eye, and its song caught her ear. Wanting to be alone, she tried to chase it away. She tried to bury it in a blizzard of harsh words, but hope springs eternal, and the robin survived.

Day after day, the robin sang to her its sweet melodies of April showers. Each note bursting into beautiful pastel pinks and blues. He blew her kisses scented with the sweet smell of jelly beans and gum drops, and tickled her face with the petals of Lily of the Valley.

Slowly, he melted her heart, and once again, her words spoke new life. Each new day brought her new joy, and once again, she radiated warmth, the sunshine was her happiness, and her heartbeat pumped party anthems.

She knew it was all just a vicious cycle. She would once again fall for the shirtless boys who basked in her warmth, but she would rise again. She always did. She was back to herself again. She was Summer.