Get back on the bike
Show up and write anything
Back in the habit.
May:
Verdantly dancing,
Winter limbs don leafy coats
All the shades of green.
Exoskeletons
Sunshine trough cicada shells
Jewels left behind.
He slurps his noodles
A bowl of surprise and wonder
Discov’ring mushrooms.
Good Morning Spring Sun!
Slanting through kitchen windows
Stabs me in the eye.
June:
Cicadas flutter
on buzzing wings to treetops
alarmingly loud.
Ghost lights in water
Splash strokes, propelling shadows
Summer dusk swim meet.
June heat blankets me
in a thick layer of air,
prompts my lethargy.
The taste of summer skin
baking in the poolside heat
Sunscreen and chlorine.
The baby dances
unobserved in the kitchen.
It’s true what they say.
July:
Brood X now silent,
Bodies dissolved into earth
Leaving brown-tipped trees.
Skies open, rain storms.
Skies open, sunshine. Briefly.
Enough for a swim.