skin sun hot, salt streaked
roof terrace shower ice shock
light slants; we make our own rainbows
summer
Castro Marina 200901
I blinked and the firework was a flower on the back of my eye, evening star soaring as the moon sank beyond the town wall. Where the sea had been this morning was deep nothingness, holding glassy afloat the lights of the outgoing boats. A moment, and the moon.
until the sun
mine
in the summer
until the sun fell
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summer rain
summer rain streaming
steaming street dreaming
believing still believing
it’s dark already
it’s dark already
clocks must change themselves
not yet summertime
“Summer is coming”
“Summer is coming”
spray tan smiles don’t reach her eyes
winter still lives here
seeds drift
seeds drift, summer snow
my thoughts follow carelessly
the bees are busy
the bees are busy
sunshine laziness shaming
the smell of broken grass
the smell of broken grass
heaviness of eyelids
foreseeing brief farewell
Summer fell
Love faded with your tan. Leaves changed colour. Summer fell.
Sami – Fiskardo
summer wind-whipped
jagged coal-black waves
drive down the coast to Sami
were they here, the men, the heroes?
were they ever here beyond imagined memories?
What do you expect
Yesterday had been a day when you sweated standing still. Today the August storms arrived ten days early. Palms dipped and swayed close to parallel with the ground. Shallow roots held as the rain had not yet softened the sun-charred earth.
Vito looked up from his cards and wrinkled his nose: it will all be past in half an hour. The far horizon was lightening. Thunder was far away above the sea.
The cicadas were silent. A single bird sang. It could have been warning, it could have been sorrow but it sounded of triumph. And now the sky was close to half clear and the rain had stopped. Shorter, weaker gusts of wind switched the olive trees from green to silver to green again. They shone in the reappearing sun.
Vito looked up again. What do you expect, he said. It is summer. There are strangers. What do you expect.
