June suddenly starts steaming on towards solstice,
rain remembered only in the reaching roots
of grass seeds sprouting,
and the moisture in the air
that calls all plants to rise

Summer visits us in moments ripe with memory,
the feeling of the air, the taste of ice cream,
the sprint of possibilities,
the wide expanse of days,
our call to be here in witness,
to ride its spirit like breath,
to move like wind through trees.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 19, 2020