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| Summer in its second movement. jo'b |
in my hip pocket,
strings and flutes,
maybe an oboe,
sustained notes,
interstellar melodies,
universal hums,
it keeps me calm
so I can focus
on the temporary joys,
(and aren't they all)
blackbirds rising from the wire
in modest murmuration,
a weave of swallows,
the toad in porchlight
at the kitchen door,
maple leaves turning over,
thunderheads building
and the wind rising,
fireflies after evening rain—
summer in its second movement,
me in my fourth, softly.
