Then followed that beautiful season…Summer.
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Can you smell it?
It smells like freshly mown lawns
And drying spray paint
Feels like sticky limbs
And and skinned ankles
Courtesy of black bike peddles
Tastes like dripping Popsicles
From pop goes the weasel blaring ice cream trucks
Sounds like basketballs pounding the cracked pavement
Like hula hoops hitting the ground
Like slurping water from the hose because you weren’t allowed inside again unless you didn’t want to come back out
Looks like a handful of ten year olds running through the streets and across the neighbors yards (except that one mean old mans in the middle) playing hide and go seek or freeze or tag
Looks like 1995 in Detroit
Like I’m ten years old
Like its summer,
Like its summer.