Mark Twain

WARM SUMMER SUN
By Mark Twain

Warm summer sun,
Show kindly here,

Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.

Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light.

Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night.


For a change, the sun is out today. It is 45 degrees F. and at the beginning of January. The warm summer wind is not here but I remember it. I remember how it blew in the faces of us kids so many years ago and I lived in San Diego and it was summer all of the time. I took so many things for granted then, but not this poet. Those friends that I knew in those days are in the cemetery now as the memories he was thinking about. I want the wind to blow softly for them too.

Death is the uninvited guest and it was certainly for me too as it was for Mark Twain who lost his wife and daughter. I lost my childhood playmates. They died so young in traffic accidents, some killed by loved ones, some by illness and then I have to think of myself as the poet did, no doubt. Soon he would be there too which is where he is now. I will be gone too. Life is impermanent. We love them and miss them and know we will join them.

There are some Jehovah Witnesses that come to my door ever so often with fairy tales of a life sometime in the future where the devil dies and there is no more death. I wonder if they can visualize what life can be without death. I know I can't. Death is a part of life as much as the devil is a part of a god. It is yang and yin. Still, it is interesting to think about. I miss my childhood friends and our lost innocence as much as the times we had as children. Good night, good night dear friends.