by Constance Schultz
traces of fires of all the words
here and there unspoken
where dry sage burns right now
golden grass beautiful
complete logical
summer refuse to say it sleepy
summer foreign in the mouth
summer wishful thinking
wish on smoke for summer on the beach
candles homemade in shells
seaglass
blue wax candles of oyster shell and clam
and air from an ocean
smoke of fires in fields compose a haiku
permeates invasive toxicity forget
far and wide what to say
and imagine chickens now magic
a beach little house tired and dreamy
apple tree and compost pile drive
and sunsets to write about and drive
places to run until problems are too tired to be
think and then shiver think again
I love you and them and us and it’s a kiss
Constance Schultz lives in the Pacific Northwest with her daughter. She has writing in the Calamus Journal, Figroot Press, Verdancies, and Stonecoast Review.