Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Sweet sweet summer
Mid-August and I sense it. A slowing.
The way summer shifts towards its end
in freeze-frame moments
as fall crooks a finger to pull us closer.
I feel the planet tilt
till time rolls down the other side.
I will relish these last popsicle
days, press the soles of my feet
against patchy grass worn into crop circles
by the underbelly of a plastic wading pool,
catch the breath of a distant thunderstorm
in my teeth.
I will hold your small butterfly
hands in mine and watch the trees
swim in the grass, the flowers sing
to the sky, the day
slip into night.