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?
Rachel Sandell 