Every year, I find myself surprised
when summer comes around.
It’s silly, I’m smarter than that
but honestly part of me
doesn’t believe it will happen.
I forget what warmth feels like.
Until one day, the air is warm
and the spring shoots forth
waking the Earth once more.
I pack away the sweaters
pull our dresses out
and smell summer arrive
as lilacs bloom.
My bones remember the warmth
spreading across the land
and I remember the powers
of a thunderstorm.
Riding in on the night’s wind
fading the humidity away
that smoldered the day
the force
that brews the storms I love
keeps the land lush
and the waters churning.
Nevertheless, the rains leave pools
hatching swarms of Mosquitoes
that love me.
They pick me out amongst the crowd
in a ratio ten to one.
I’m extremely tasty to them.
Even so, I wouldn’t change a summer
in the north for anything.
7/15
care for a reading
