I pour myself
into summer
like a melted popsicle
half frozen
half melted
but all the way delicious
I dive into summer
as I run on the dock
to cannonball
into the lake
coming up in shock
at the cold
that I know I’ll handle
when I’m numb to it
in five minutes
or so
I road trip
into summer
windows rolled down
radio turned up
where to go
so I can take
the winding back roads
if I want
I relax into summer
on the front porch
with ice cubes
melting in my lemonade
as I feel the warm breeze
on my bare skin
as the chair clings
to the backs of my bare legs
I dream into summer
as my thoughts turn
from school
to a wide-open canvas
of adventures
to embark upon
and time to while away
unplanned
unhurried
unstructured
unencumbered
I backstroke
into summer
with yesterday
in the rearview mirror
tomorrow not yet born
and all there is
is today
floating on the surface
powered forward
by my own pace
I dance into summer
grass under my feet
stars coming out
in the inky black sky above
as the music pulses
and I am surrounded
by the positive energy
of something being created
familiar
yet wholly new
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared internationally in a wide variety of journals, including The Ravens Perch, HaikUniverse, Haiku Corner, Cold Moon Journal, Scarlet Dragonfly and The Haiku Foundation.
