, , , , ,

for A.D.


Why is it that on days

like these I can love you

even more? And it’s

always the same –

year after year. Two days

into the summer solstice

the early afternoon

a mild swelter

averted, but still

a living sun

a shine of good

and well-meaning


There’s something

in it, I suppose,

that’s like your smile –

the one I will one day

use to remember you

when you are gone.

There must be something,

too, in the wind. The wind

that we are so grateful

to have on days like

these. A slight breeze

that turns solar burns

to sweet brushes

against the skin

like those hides

of sought-after furs

impossibly soft,



designed to be

their greatest defense.

Even apart

on a phone call

I hear the sun

in your voice.


this is your best caress

because it is all

feeling, pure without tug

or press

or the seizing grab

of fickle passions.

Perhaps, it’s the long

days, the longest we have

with the glut

of light

and the mirrory variety

of infinity

playing out

on the face of every

living thing

that reminds me

that just perhaps

we can have all

this, unsetting,

until the last mood

of fading dusk

with even more left

over to see us

safely slide through

the dark of any night.


| Juan-Paolo Perre