Maps
/no silence slips in
to roost
wind chimes – sprinklers – chickadees
nights are restless
as earthworms pop and lost souls
stumble down dirt roads
our maps
lead to lakes and painted canoes and bass
glinting of daybreak
my room peaks
with warmed sun
and sweat-soaked clothes
fall to the floor
what bears me up
prepares to gather
empty hands
August flies south
and with it
summer