Spring to Summer

my first poem for July

The green moss under my palm

softens under the rain.

This season, the days flicker back and forth,

a blue flame punctuating sentences

that come out of my mouth. 

Four-leaf clovers, and purple reflected

through car windows. 

Everything seems closer than expected.

It means longer bike rides and 

plans I’ll never touch this summer.

It means systems opening and closing again 

until a fire starts.