seeds fluff the air
agents of a nuisance **** ;
                              'the city' warns

faded ladybirds thrive
aggressors from a foreign land ;
                               'the city' warns

Seasons change
Just ask the jay
Whose plume is blue
As the sky
After a fierce rain
Inundates the land
Bringing with it winds
Whose currents lift the jay
To dance among scattered clouds
Waving a final goodbye
To the warmth of summer sun
Setting past falls forward
Into winters grasp
Whose chill shocks the jay
With visions of ice and snow and frost
A sign to migrate to warmer climbs
Where fall has fallen backward
And summer sun rises anew
Challenging the changing season
To remain sunny and blue

Tired mornings greet me, weary and bleak,
As summer's heat whispers fears, I can't speak.
I wonder where this is all going?
Where it's taking me?
Beyond the heat the skies seem so clear,
If only I could see past summers sear.
In the haze of warmth, thoughts entangle,
Yearning for a colder clarity, hot hopes to untangle.

evening summer   overlooking the lake
                                from behind the fly screens
a lit stove   has yet to widen its warmth

my father-in-law strums his guitar
my three-year-old snuggles
pinching the notes  into his mothers hair braid

Bottled root beer tastes like summer.
The kind I used to spend
on Kelley’s Island as a kid with
bicycles and put-put,
ice-cream cones too big and
beach trips that stretched
the length of a road too long.
The kind of summer that doesn’t end
but rather lasts too long
in the June-heat and lake-splashes - filled with laughter
from siblings who still haven’t grown old enough yet
to think twice about laughing with their younger brother.

Bottled root beer is sweet
with condensation and sweat -
sweet reminders on my tongue
that though it tastes of memories,

that makes it taste all the sweeter.