Coco

Summer is not my favorite season,

summer is not really my jam,

but as June, July, and August

approach in their usual pack,

I find myself longing for the winding days,

the heat that slowly drives us all crazy,

I dig a hole into the ground

To get to my old height

So maybe all my childhood friends

Would speak in more than just short texts

Before I knew they talked behind my back

I gather rocks and stones

When I was younger

The best part of the

Whole.Entire.Year

Was summertime

My siblings and I

Would wake up early

When the dew on the grass was fresh

And the

Birds were singing 

In January,

when the thrill of the holidays has not yet faded

and the snow still enchants with its glittering smile,

she flops into snowbanks and skids on her knees on the ice

of her backyard pond,

A wingspan of ash, she scours the sky for signs of a way forward.

Beneath, the writhing landscape of a future so foreign we cannot yet comprehend which color she will be.

The best part about summer

Is the nothingness of it

Lying on a blanket in your back yard

A book on your chest

And iced tea in a mason jar

The best part about summer is the Fourth of July