Summer
I lost my shoes each summer, as you should
just placed them in my case and went barefoot
mother said I shouldn’t, aunty said I could
Except for Sunday school, of course, tut-tut.
If every day were summer, which I wish
I would lose my shoes, paddle in the pond
and let them all be tickled by the fish;
ten toes that have some freedom, past beyond.
I hold them up into the sky, my toes
which end my legs, so city thin and white;
and see beyond them all the stars aglow
in summer, in the south, that seems just right.
Yet, are these bright stars, or fireflies I see?
Truth, I’m not sure it matters much to me.
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