July 3, 2014
Hymn to the Fourth of July (A. G. Harmon, 7/03/14, Good Letters)
Meat cooked on a grill, charred just so, the smoke clouding the air and tantalizing the senses with giddy-heighted expectancy, and savory summery sides--steamed, baked, or chilled, then buttered, spiced, or sugared;Bright primary colors around that most heartwarming of all furnishings, the table--and often on a table outside, under the glory of tall trees in the sweet bath of a canopy's shade (surely someone's written a poem about the atavistic hearth man recreates at the height of the aestival solstice?).Water, often nearby--either the kind that's clear, sharply-chlorinated, and sparking like a supernova, or the kind that's black, peak-topped, and pungent of soil and fish, or the kind that's vast, undulating, and batter-mad against a talcum of sand and shell--all to be dived in from the recoil of a fiberglass board, plunged in from the arc of a rope swing, or surfed through with the power of the ages washing around your body.Footballs sailing, Frisbees sweeping, horse shoes clanging, Sousa resounding and resounding and resounding.And somewhere in the background, among all of this, a baseball game is being played.
Posted by Orrin Judd at July 3, 2014 5:50 PM