Berkeley in Summertime

The hushed city lulls into a summer slumber.
It is getting more and more quiet,
the sidewalks lack hustle,
people pause and sniff newly budding colors,
open-faced, following the senses subtle enough
to be ignored when the semester burns bright.
Berkeley in June. Berkeley in July.
The residue of commencement can be seen:
"congrats graduate!" signs remain posted on anonymous walls
and deflated balloons decorate the well-worn walkways
of fertile minds now on vacation.
A friend's gift comes to mind; not the gift--the card announcing the gift.
It reads: "I rejoice in life for its own sake."
In noiseless afternoons where naps are non-negotiables
and memories settle in like sleepy hibernating bears,
the rejoicing for its own sake takes on a maturity,
one that lacks the need to announce ad nauseum,
but continually and gratefully recognizes,
relishes in, and praises the Earth without ceasing
for this grand game with so many precious losses along the way.