You're Picturing Summer

Your cheeks are glowing,
You're out of breath from
The run to the backyard
From the dusty old bus stop.

Your hair is flying and
Twirling in the wind
Like the long summer grass and
The leaves on tree branches.

You sink to the grass
And the sun is so bright that
You have to shut your eyes and press
Your warm palms on your eyelids.

You're picturing the water in the lake under the sun,
You're picturing the smell of the grease at a fair.
You're picturing the heat, dancing on the pavement.
You're picturing, picturing, picturing summer.