Summer I Need

Summer I need


and your confetti of petals and wings and light.

Shudder me

with your percussive storm clouds

and misty rainbow apologies seeping into the scars

of December. My skin rises to meet your mango

tongue and marigold residue

and the impossible starburst of clementine


Summer I need

the leeward side of Lake Michigan

sending an army of infantry grains

from your dunes

into barefooted places.

Summer I need

farm fields of fireflies disco

dancing and turtles breaching glassy stills

and campfires pushing the night

back just far enough to say

what if.

Summer I need

to follow your birds home

because when they leave I am left

here borrowing time

treading water until the ice comes

and all there is clings to the last flashes

of feathered rouge picking leftover

seed from frozen footprints on the ground.

Summer I need

to stop saying goodbye 

and sending blessings on your way

because I don't mean it.

Summer I need

you to stay.