Summer Comes

Already sweet gum balls are dangling green
and there’s no longer any need for pants.
I hear a blue jay scream; dragonflies dance
wildly, while clouds drift careless and serene.

This seems surreal when so much time is spent
in fighting not to shiver, using up
meager reserves, scraping an empty cup.
Our bones know lack. Emptiness won’t relent.

Yet somehow summer always comes, to teach
our bodies about abundance, to show
us shocking growth, to feather us in shade,
to feed us with every color. Below
the brightness we see so much newness made.
A time will come for basking on the beach.