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What Shall I Pack in the Box Marked "Summer"?
A handful of wind that I caught with a kite,
A firefly's flame in the dark of the night,
The green grass of June that I tasted with toes,
The flowers I knew from the tip of my nose,
The clink of the ice cubes in pink lemonade,
The Fourth of July Independence Parade,
The sizzle of hot dogs, the fizzle of coke,
Some pickles and mustard and barbecue smoke,
The print of my fist in the palm of my mitt
as I watched for the batter to strike out or hit,
The splash of the water, the top-to-toe cool
of a stretch-and-kick trip through a blue swimming pool,
The tangle of night songs that slipped through my screen
of crickets and insects too small to be seen.
The seed pods that formed on the flowers to say
that summer was packing her treasures away.
