Summertime

by Cloë Parks

She sits on an overlooking cliff in a meditating position
Not alone, but surrounded by the wise spirits of her ancestors
Embedded in soft green grass, she feels the gentle hum of the aina
She hears thrilling shouts of surfers down below
She tastes the minty cool breeze traveling though her lips and down her spine
She stands up, brushes herself off, and looks up at the faint swirl of clouds
She smiles at the kind sun
She grabs her board and runs down the cliff to surf
All the while thinking only one thing
“Summertime”