Water finds form

a child with a hose

spraying the landscape for enemies

 

Summer I could draw

if it would stand still --

instead it crawls along my eyesight

 

the sun is hot,

the breeze is not

 

the convertibles pass by the front proch of my house

boastfully claiming their air that is denied to other cars

 

the long day draws to a close

 

Tomorrow will have its own common sense to flood the trees with light