Summer—
ten days past solstice,
jackets
untouched in the closet,
ashes
cold in the wood stove.
Summer—
colors in strong light and heat.
Fire is not wanted.
Sunset's flames are sufficient.
Lean against me,
your back against my chest.
Let me wrap my arms around you,
rest your arms on mine.
Hanque O . . .
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/summer-fire/
