May

It’s the month of sweet coconut,

freezing hands,

and heartbreak that isn’t

heartbreak at all.

It’s the restless time,

the chafing at the bit and digging in the heels

into the rich dirt of childhood.

The slide that is time-slick so as to prevent

changing of minds.

The days when the toes breathe freshness

and skin absorbs the Earth.

When the hands spread out, the mind forgets dark,

and freedom spins every child around the yard.

It’s our time-the world belongs to our culture,

right now.

It’s selfishness.

It’s growing from the inside, that growing that pulls

hearts and minds up and out.

It’s the last breath in before

safety’s wind rushes at our backs, telling us

in no uncertain terms

goodbye.

Sticky fingers stained with sugary summer.

Chocolate embedded in the green grass blades.

Black-and-white tags and passports,

and someday letters and stories.

Rustling dresses and goosebump mornings

And the opening of my gate, rusty and humble,

To the most glorious of adventures.

May 17, 2013