June is one of my favorite
months. The world is new and green. It’s the time of year when the smell of
roses, lily-of-the-valley, and wisteria linger on the mist as dusk arrives.
It’s the month when you can smell sun-baked hay in the fields and fresh-wet
earth in the gentle rains. 
If you close your eyes, you
can hear a repertoire of songs from the birds—the trill of the song sparrows,
the cry of the killdeers and blue jays, the chatter of the chick-a-dees, and
the soft lilt of the whippoorwills. It’s a time when the wind whispers in the
pines and leafy maples, and bobs and bends the tall meadow grasses into
rippling waves.
June is a time of motion and
excitement as butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds juggle for space and a taste
of the blooming flowers. But June is serene and calm when nightfall arrives and
a sliver of a golden moon hangs in the star-filled sky…and the only
interruption in the silence is the tranquil sounds of night insects and tree
frogs serenading each other in the grass.
And what is
so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days. . .
--From: The Vision of Sir Launfal
Then, if ever, come perfect days. . .
--From: The Vision of Sir Launfal
by James Russell Lowell
