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
















the heat stifles
flowers wilt
fruit ripens
(as do I)


 August is approaching






no worries






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







spilt milk






with the fear of stagnation
she became a shapeshifter













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