summer child

this is for love (my mom is the best gardener I know)

Black sweaty fine hair fall upon your baby face,
As double dutch jump ropes and kickball
Games & laughter & silliness fill up hot summers.
Television hums and antennas tangle reception,
Afternoon naps as Mama beckons us to pink flowers,
Watering each dry soil patch making mud cakes
Picking ripe red cherry tomatoes off the stems
As time goes on without a peep or alarm,
Setting suns signal dinners on the stove,
Showering off the smell of nature’s fragrance
Dreaming dreams without any definition,
Just a feeling and knowing, it’ll be okay.

gratitude from the moon and back


2 thoughts on “summer child

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