Is this summer now?


Our spring season here in southwestern Ontario seemed slow to arrive. It's been cool with a late snow, but now it's been getting warmer. The first day of summer approaches.

 The poem I share today is about a balloon. It reminds me of a day at market when my eldest was about four or five. I bought one for her at market—a multi-coloured one—that excited her. I tied it around her wrist for the duration of the market visit and then of course we had to untie it to get in the car. It bobbed around inside the car for the trip home, but it wasn't a problem staying close to the car roof because it had helium inside it.

We returned home and it was time to get out of the car. I must have handed her the string, and because we'd be going in the house, said, "Hold on tight." 

While I unbuckled her little sister, the older one loosened her grip on the balloon string and off it went, up into the clear blue sky. We watched it go higher and higher and my daughter's eyes filled with tears. Her balloon was gone and we could not retrieve it. We couldn't go back to get another one. I hugged her and said that we'd get another one some other day.

 This poem speaks to such a situation. Picture it for yourself.


Red balloon


       red balloon
    round and plump
   as a summer melon
 wind tugs at the string 
     but the balloon
           slips
                f
                  r
                    e
                       e

 a breath
 of wind
   takes it
    away    

   
till it’s
  only 
               a
                         dot

       in
           the
                   sky

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