29 July 2011
all the earth's an exhale, warm and sticky, so we caper about in icy spray and drip dry into evening. we whisper-read between chilled shelves of library books, the rasp of pages turning like music. we sift through yard sale sheets and desks and casserole dishes. we plan out parties and sport pop-tart smiles and sugar rushes (thank you, grandma owens). and the soundtrack slipping behind it all is a mix of belly laughs and kidspeak and footfalls and it's a hint of eternity, i think, all this goodness swimming up summery and gold. and i can hardly wait, just can't wait for more.