Summer

When the time comes to leave, I will miss the cranes. They seem so unselfconscious and satisfied, a combination that sounds like jubilance.

I will not miss the wood ticks, the way they crawl and cling. The tick that annoys most is the one that isn’t there, because you feel her on you everywhere at once.

Advertisements

Published by

Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner

2 thoughts on “Summer”

  1. I struck through a remark about being ticked off. A small but vital thing I have forgotten always strikes me as a tick. When I’m older, maybe I’ll be in the blissful state of not remembering I forgot something. Meanwhile, this is a wonderful little poem about the passing of a season – bravo.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s