After the lush full bloom of June,
spent and reflective,
nature exhales,
stealing away my endless summer.




I came out in June. It was dizzying. It was passionate. It felt as I think toes feel walking shoeless in the summer grass. I won't be unrealistic and say I was always happy. Though at times I was. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to look back through the archives and see I was also scared, depressed, ashamed... But I was full of feeling and alive for the first time in my life. My life is cyclical...like the seasons. My full bloom has changed and I am quiet and less apt to dance barefoot. I am reflective. I have cast off my leaves exposing my bare branches for closer inspection. Are my roots strong enough? Will I stand up against the cold breezes or break with the first winter storm?

"My Back Door"
Melissa Etheridge

"When I was a child I dreamed like a child of wonder
With my back in the grass
My eyes to the sky to see
I believed in the stars
I knew they cast a spell that I was under
With my fingers in the dirt
I was part of the earth
Every living thing was part of me...
but its gone, its gone, its gone..."

There is no doubt why ancient man had rituals to bring back the sun. Dances and sacrifices to unhappy gods who stole the warmth and the light brought long nights and short days full of unrest and fear. Huddled around my own fire I wait with my ancestors for a sign of reprieve from the heavens.