remembering

          when she referred to this color as old-lady-blue              

spill

          summer in your house the morning light poured in spilling on the chenille like warm milk dishes clattering in the kitchen as you made breakfast          

no worries

          I think about those days of barefeet, scraped knees, sunburns, mosquito bites and garden dirt…            

release

          she strained to hold on to the good parts when the not-so-good parts were hard to shake off            

july

          there were those hot sticky nights picnics by flashlight on the dewey grass waiting for the fireworks we chased fireflies