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