For cold potato soup
She sends me out back to the garden
To cut the wild onion
Daddyıs in the butterfly chair
Ice cubes clinking in his glass of bourbon
The ember from his cigarette
Briefly illuminates the sweat on his sunburned brow
Momma says it takes her back
To the dog days down in southern Georgia
Walking single file across the trestle
High above the riverbed
Daddy says it takes him back
To his salad days out on Eastern Long Island
Sneakers squeaking on the varnished deck
Of his cousins 65 foot ketch
In the summertime
An evening so sublime
So sure that you were mine
In the summertime
I toss my luckiest stone
Playing hopscotch on the patio
Lazy fireflies weave their way
To the deafening cicada crescendo
The half moon slips behind a cloud
The bats zig-zag in the gloaming
Play by play on the radio
Draws me to the light inside my home
In the summertime
An evening so sublime
So sure that you were mine, In the summertime