Season

We are awakening from our hibernation.

We are rusted grills.
Black charcoal, glowing sun-orange.
Dusty lawn chairs.
Lifeguard booths.
Car wash lines.

We are in bloom.
Turning skyward during the day.
Flopping rhythmically in sandals.
Open longer hours.
Rattling swamp coolers.

We are ocean clouds that burn off at noon.
Packing our things.
Long open highways.
Red-stained popsicle hands.
Crushed ice stands.

We are shedding layers of skin.
Fresh as rain, warm on sidewalks.
Melting ice cream on sugar cones.
Running traffic lights.
Baseball diamond lawn clippings.

I am a regenerating tree.

I live forever.