a psalm, a proverb—
 
wisdom to guide my footsteps
 
through the month’s last day

 
 
 

Somewhere the breezes
 
must be fragrant as jasmine—
 
here they smell like smoke.

 
 
 

summer solitude—
 
watching the first dry plum leaf
 
falling from the tree

 
 
 

My cousin and I
 
see who can spit the farthest—
 
watermelon seeds.

 
 
 

Blue morning glories
 
have escaped my neighbor’s yard
 
and invaded mine!

 
 
 

A tattered scarecrow
 
keeps my little patch of corn
 
from marauding crows.

 
 
 

Midsummer heat wave—
 
why complain to me, shrill crow?
 
I can’t cool things down.

 
 
 

Sultry afternoon—
 
on the porch we sip iced tea
 
while our tabby naps.

 
 
 

How many stories
 
that no one will ever find
 
masquerade as plums?

 
 
 

Pesky mosquito!
 
I’d linger over my tea,
 
if it weren’t for you.