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Summer
The sidewalk bakes under my feet
Colors, flashing and loud, float
freely through the shimmering treetops.
Rustle, rustle, sigh.
No sounds but the cicadas and the
heat.
My soul longs for the warmth, for the sun
to brown my sweater-wrapped skin.
I shiver.
I open my eyes and
it's raining,
grey water that edges on sleet
pouring from the sky.
But I know
soon the edges of the heaven will warm and
blush and
a new season will come.
I long for the coming months for
my soul resides in the heart of summer.
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