August

This is the summer I had, 

seventy days in one circle. 

Every line, shape and color

a person, place or thing. 

See the rocks skipping?

The time spent on the lawn? 

Can you find SoCo? 

Or the driving range illegal break-in? 

Three pulpits, four walls, 

five blocks walked, nineteen pages written.

One question, one prayer, 

one fibroid, one groovy girl kite. 

Do you see sadness and stagnation

in these enhanced colors? 

I hope not.  The moped is moving, 

the windows are open. 

Sun beats down on bare feet, 

golden light shines on the healing table. 

The colors that found me 

were loyally bright.