Longing

It always seems that
In the unruly depths of each Alabama winter
I long for summer
For campfires and S'mores
And laughing louder than the cicadas
I long for the sticky-sweet popsicle melt running down my arm
For the thorns scraping at my ankles
For unexplained bruises
And for car trips that last forever

And it always seems that
In the hazardous halls of this high school
I long for childhood
For free Publix cookies
And Disney songs haunting every drive
I long to be swinging and running at the playground
For chocolate milk before bed
For just one more story
And pretending to fall asleep in the car

And it always seems that
In the concrete darkness of the city
I long for color
For fields of wildflowers
And dirt roads that lead to nowhere
I long to bike passed local, family-owned shops
For dandelions and clovers
For second-hand books
And knowing all my neighbors by name

And it always seems that
In the bright loud chaos of today
I long for simple things
For baking bread alone at night
And sharing it with strangers
I long to keep fresh flowers in my room, depending on the season
For reading cozy mysteries
For sitting by the window
And relishing in the quiet peace of it