Lullabys are lazy and fluid – like a warm summer breeze or a slow moving river

• – a summer breeze that ever so lightly ruffles the thin window sheers,
• – or a slow moving river that barely carries the thick blanket of pollen to the ocean like a giant barge moving train cars through a canal in winter, not as fast as an inch worm.

Lullabys, like this summer breeze, sometimes brings with it a fragrant smell of honeysuckle followed by a hint of clover and wild roses. A smell that’s so intoxicating and memorable. That smell alone, whispers a lullaby that spring has become summer.

_   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _    _   _   _  _

Remember the familiar lullaby that begins:

hush little baby, don’t you cry now sings….

honeysuckle and clover will soon visit to soothe your tired eyes

the sun shines through the sheers letting you know – you are not alone

hush little  baby, don’t you cry beckons…

the doves play outside your window, playing leap frog or piggy back over pillows

hush little baby, don’t you cry…

the river’s singing a whisper to sleep soundly, all is well, make a wish upon the fireflies and soon the night sky will light up like the 4th of July.

hush little baby, don’t you cry … close your eyes … wish upon a star … dry your tears — smell the the sky… and dream of fireflies on the 4th of July.

© Anita Adams 5/14/2018

Somewhere over the Crescent Moon