The soft symphony of crickets and humid air begin the slow slide into summer. Hoping June lingers a bit longer this year as it is such an elusive month, always swept away much too soon. Hope mingles with green that this summer will be known as that summer, the summer that remains locked in memory later on as each new June arrives.
"To the gypsy that remains faces freedom with a little fear
I have no fear, I have only love
And if I was a child
And the child was enough
Enough for me to love
Enough to love"