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