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