My Writing

Touch of Summer

Next month, I’ll bring you a poem all about winter. Now, I’m doing the seasons correctly by giving you a summer poem. Enjoy!

❤ ❤ ❤

Have you forgotten


the earthy smell of 

the dirt after a fresh rain,

when the ground sags


beneath dewy green grass,

encircling murky puddles,

deceptively deep?


Do you recall

the way the sun rays ricochet

off the corner of your eye,


splashing across slanting hillsides,

rolling into shadows

to disappear the darkness?


If you inhale deeply,

you can hold it all

inside your nose:


wet dirt beneath your fingernails,

a coating of brown on your hands

from yanking prickly weeds,


bare feet stepping on tough grass,

fallen pine nettles, and cold rocks

wet with early morning chill.


If you turn your face to the sun,

white-grey clouds swim in winding patterns

through the sky dotted with


a light haze of falling rain.

Do you remember

the touch of summer?


Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?


Photo by Zwaddi on Unsplash