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.