the month giving is summer is soon to be over.
and then july.
i want to be happy like i was in grade school.
not thinking about ugly new york augusts and jellyfish oceans and green flies,
but endless days
music of cicadas
a bedtime that never arrived.
but i'm a bit blue.
that summer's just like fall is just like spring
because i'm all grown up now.
people i love are getting in airplanes and i have traveling-feet envy.
want to see a new place.
visit a home i've left behind.
remember walking down that street at every age
holding hands with people gone.
july is the anniversary of death for me.
and yet i am trying to paint the month anew,
every year since.
and so i remember her
with these trees
day that passes.