Summer

the air tastes like honey and promise 

sticky with the scent of blooming jasmine 

and freshly cut grass that crunches beneath bare feet 

the sky drips blue 

stretching wider every afternoon 

like it’s trying to hold all the sunlight before it slips away 

windows thrown open wide 

carry the hum of lawnmowers and distant laughter 

and the slow steady rhythm of cicadas waking up 

schoolbags lie forgotten by the door 

crumpled papers and pens left behind like winter’s ghosts 

the sidewalks burn hot enough to melt the soles of shoes 

and the ice cream truck’s tinny song winds through the streets 

a ribbon of sound tying the days together 

less than a week now 

before the world shifts 

before mornings start with the taste of sunscreen 

and evenings stretch out like lazy cats on porches 

before the night sky fills with fireflies and whispered secrets 

and the air holds the soft weight of something new 

summer is breathing just beneath the surface 

ready to burst open