by midsummer i
am all riversand and
freckles, inkdreaming
in a language re-
born from murk
and rivermud.
and though
it is good growing
weather, all
sticky rain
and cloudless
noons, my vinedark
currents are slow to crawl,
slow as the sun eats
shadow.
snugged close
on a narrow doorstep,
swatting mosquitoes
seems suddenly
like some kind of love.
so we soak up each
heavy july evening
as if we knew
we weren’t meant
to last. as if fall
were already falling.
as if this were
another country
song dripping
to its end.
Joanna Suzanne Lee 
ooo country songs can be quite sad you know…the secrets not to soak it all up so it lasts…smiles…i bet you are covered in freckles too…hot & wet here…i dont mind a bit of porch sitting in the heat, but dang those blood sucking squitos…
behind on getting to these… but yes, very much freckled, and hot and damp here too. *smiles* the mosquitoes are out even in the mornings here, at least in the backyard. between poison ivy and sunburn and mosquito bites all the livelong day, it’s been quite a summer so far.
This is a wonderful piece. I was drawn in and I don’t think I can get out!
thanks, Carl, I think. Here’s hoping you’ve found your way out by now! 🙂
An excellent read…really did enjoy it.
thanks much!
This just drips with aching and longing. It’s almost like we all know that the end will come someday, but that doesn’t negate the beauty of the moment. You deserve someone who can decode the beautiful, mysterious message in those summertime freckles. Sending iced sun tea and a forehead kiss your way. – Mosk
aw, Mosk. thanks on all counts!