On Saturday afternoons I used to go for a walk with my mother. From the dusk of the hallway, we stepped at once into the brightness of the day. The passerby, bathed in melting gold, had their eyes half-closed against the glare, as if they were drenched with honey, upper lips were drawn back, exposing the teeth. Everyone in this golden day wore that grimace of heat–as if the sun had forced his worshippers to wear identical masks of gold. The old and the young, women and children, greeted each other with these masks, painted on their faces with thick gold paint; they smiled at each other's pagan faces–the barbaric smiles of Bacchus.
Bruno SchulzMots clés gold sun heat masks summer
The morning heat had already soaked through the walls, rising up from the floor like a ghost of summers past.
Erik TomblinMots clés ghosts summer georgia childhood-memories
The smell of her hair lingered just out of reach of his memory and left him with a nervous hum resonating throughout his body like a child forced to sit in church while the sun was shining outside on a perfectly good summer's day.
Erik TomblinMots clés infatuation youthfulness summer falling-in-love bliss sweet-abandon
Though it was mid-July, the morning was brisk, the sky a gray cotton of clouds, and Puget Sound a steely, cold blue. Most of Seattle grumbled, worn with winterish weather, impatient for the elusive summer sun. With umbrellas tucked away in the trunks of cars, sunglasses lost and separated from their original purchasers, the Pacific Northwest was a bastion of misty air and pale, complaining residents.
Courtney KirchoffMots clés summer pacific-northwest
In the morning light, I remembered how much I loved the sound of wind through the trees. I laid back and closed my eyes, and I was comforted by the sound of a million tiny leaves dancing on a summer morning.
Patrick CarmanMots clés dancing light morning trees wind remember comfort summer
The days draw out, the weather gets warmer, and it's what we call summer, with a bitter laugh when we've said it.
Stan BarstowMots clés summer weather england
Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water,
Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light,
Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter…
Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night.
Walking alone…was it splendor, or what, we were bound with?
Deep in the time when summer lets down her hair?
Shadows we loved and the patterns they covered the ground with
Tapestries, mystical, faint in the breathless air.
Mots clés love poetry magical summer shadows patterns mystical
Pain was as much a part of this life as the summer and the winter and the rain, and there was no greater asshole than the one who believed you can cure it.
Brian McGreevyMots clés life pain rain believe winter summer cure asshole
I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.
L.M. MontgomeryA tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing -
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of your rowing -
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say 'forget.
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