There is nothing like the exhaustion after a summer’s day.
That bone weary, eye drooping, slightly sun burnt nose
With a sprinkle of freckles across the nose.
Ice cream melting from a cone onto fingers
That are sticky and sweet.
A campfire roast with marshmallows on fire
And smoke blowing every which way
Causing campfire scent that rarely washes out the first time.
A dance of fireflies in a dark night
And bath of humidity
The only suitable activity is porch swing sitting.
Name that cloud
No, boy with a hat on a flower.
Now it’s nothing but a wisp.
Bicycle tires spinning in the hot sun
Golden hair streaming behind, tangled in the wind
And a dog running alongside.
The sunset pink and purple
Disappearing on the horizon
And it takes two hours for the sun to go down
And disappear into oblivion
Whichever it gets to first.