June
The trees were talking today and dancing,
Wearing all that new green.
I sat in hot sun, in sun at its zenith.
(When else will I find such a concentrated
Energy to soak into my skin, my bones?)
In thin February light I’ll pull out this day and hold
It to the window, a golden talisman,
Remember browning my wrinkles,
And that hot light glowing through my eyelids,
Breathing in that sweet air, heart beating a sun drum,
My ribs a cage for summer.
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