Streets suddenly are lined with trees
burgeoning leaves in yellow-green, while
the cherry and crabapple send pink promises,
like tiny baby fingers, into the road.
Around us there is music lifting
from windows rolled all the way down, the heat
carries portions of songs from the lips of drivers;
fingers tap the roof as heads bob to the beat.
Driving out of town, the season’s change
gets marked with signs of orange, their
directional nature reassuring that order
is once again restored with the rise of Mercury.
The river low and green banked, pulls alongside
the town that has settled into its curves. Willows
begin to weep, and fathers stand with toes in the water
showing sons how to cast out and reel in.
We pull to the side of the road for ice cream,
the olds stand scattered in their early afternoon
glory, leaning on canes in lines for sweet creams
in flavors of their youth. This is one more summer
added to the decades; time allowing them green
leaves for just a short while longer, and giving them
another chance to smile at their lovers while playfully
catching drips that slide down cake cones.
Aleathia Drehmer 2008
Published by Kendra Steiner Editions 5/08
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