attic suitcases

still singing their travel songs

despite the dust

the year I planted

hundreds of tulip bulbs

and waited quietly

moonlit bike ride —

we see the curve just in time

to follow it

we see you, moon

too bright for hiding —

tag, you’re it

the first cool morning —

we spend the day

denying autumn

late August run —

no petals left

to catch the first light

early onset —

medicine cabinets full

of unused bandaids

tiny cricket

I mistake for an ant

until the jump

old hurricane —

the town still tied together

at the waterline


Also? This happened: