Instead of complaining we sweat our sorrows away. We write love notes to Summer on our legs because we can’t find a paper but we do have a pen.
When our mother takes us berry picking too many times, and we all smile when the cobbler comes out and the vanilla ice cream is on sale. We eat our dessert at night, in china bowls with mismatched spoons while the sprinklers kick on and spray withered plants. At night everything is refreshed, droplets of water on flowers and faces.
When it’s morning time we drink coffee with milk and watch Mister Rogers. We argue over X because some of us think he’s an owl but we aren’t all convinced. When we wear pajamas and watch the baby squish banana on his head, it’s Summer time.
Everybody’s fancy, everybody’s fine. Pass the popsicles.