Each glance skyward transports me into summertime
Balmy, blue, cloudless, and sweet,
Pregnant with nostalgia for days yet to be known.
Memories of steaming asphalt and sweltering sun
Bob at the edges of my mind, pushed back by
Evenings that smell like warm contentment.
The summer moon at dusk sits prettily in the sky.
Lonely, poignant, overshadowed by the retiring summer sun
I gaze at her until I’m dizzy from the earth’s slow rotation.
Three airplanes full of people fly past her pale face.
From the ground they seem to hang side by side in the sky
Suspended and unaware of their proximity to breathless beauty.
Drops of Jules 