A Foothills Path

And so it is July, the sun, of course, is high in the sky, yesterday, to end June, to help me stay in tune, I walked on a path through a grassy foothills meadow full of wildflowers in bloom, it was cloudy then, and thunder sounded with a boom, and I do not know why but my mind turns to a childhood memory of hearing whippoorwills in the night, and seeing fireflies flickering bright, a delight, and I feel the passing of time, of life, like this path, it stretches backward, but I can move only forward, and in that there is a sadness, yet, also a gladness, to have lived life itself, dreams not kept on a shelf