The Last Summer

A jeweled and winding way,
A quiet unfurling of sunshine
Inside.
The swing begins, the wind up and spin,
Thrilled breathings of cicada wings and whispers
Loud, the remnants of our grief-and-stricken sound,
The waves that ringed around and round
Until we stopped to look,
Whenever the spinning really stopped,
Did it? At all?
Who took – ?
It then –
When did it?
Go –
Shall we look around and see?
Remember the heat and darkling trees, the shadowed greens of mountains
Singing
Slow, and slowly down.
We were those stones and rooted veins, together,
Some silent song
We sang
In summertime,
We wound our ways through heated plumes of heart-smoked memories.
If every cast of sunlight caught
In evenings spent along
Our rivers
Were beads of crystal light,
I’d wear them round my neck and draped low across my shoulders,
And carry you all, how mine,
One bead by thought by bead by note ,
Into my next, the core domain,
A tunnel to Autumn’s night.

The Author
Ashley Johnson has been an English teacher in Gwangju since 2015. A California native and resident hippie in the tight-knit music and arts scene, she’s always endeavoring to bring a little burst of sunshine wherever she goes.
Instagram @wildheart_haven