Summer

--Greg Kuzma

Now one of my riches is it’s summer.

It is hard to admit to the so much I have,

it is hard to keep track of it, to

make good, to keep it from running from me,

to keep it from growing confused in its

waiting, or from getting hardened to what

seems like my neglect. I know that with

so much, though I will try to have it all,

witness it all, and be in on the harvest

of my things, that I will fall to the ground

in dismay, and rot there like the what

that now blows clean and hopeful in the fields.