Its Summer Outside.
the greener greens turn gold
and skin darkens,
they play frisbee on the lawn.
they drink rivers and drink rains,
scorch the very thought of having fun, with all their fun.
theres a build up of anticipation
rash participation and
everyone is tired yet again.
its summer outside, and people are all driving-
taking trips across the freeways-
they drive each other down.
the ice clinks inside my bowl,
and i dress warm against the chill,
warm against the still, the cold, the day.
Winter is Here,
i seal my windows shut and open all the cool conditioned air.
a sigh and a pillow, and its other side.
i am wistful and i know i'll never need to tire.