Smell of Spring
Last day of school
We real cool
We skip school
We sing sin
We sip gin
We jazz June
We die soon
The last day of so many things
Comes with the smell of dew.
Spring dew.
Morning women.
Late nights outside.
Patios and rooftops
Children and baseball.
Front stoops and conversation.
Down a hill a child runs
With the morning wet on
his shoe strings...
Lurking to find a fist
to raise.
Praising the day that
Spring wields
It's birth to our senses.
In the time of myself
I have never felt more
Rebirth mixed with death.
Hands of the clock
meet at 6.
We sing sin
We sip gin
In the afternoon hour just
When the cool hits your neck
Sweet corn
Tomatoes
Smoked southern chicken.
Outside trees to hang from.
Hide n seek and what once was
supposed to be.
Taking
what God granted us
at the witching hour.
Leaving what was once
wanted
and replacing it with
less satisfying
more destined and
weighted dreams all
but makes you trip
at the 2 pm hour of life. Running
down a hill looking
for a fist to raise.
Looking for the smell
of Spring.
