Toward Summer

Toward summer

A goal, a finish line, 

some horizon not so distance

though not too near, as we

take a step, walk the empty streets.


Ten weeks until the end of May,

my legs urge me forward

through the emergent fronds

of daffodils soon to be flush, yet destine


to fade, fall by my feet

still moving forward

through green grass now tall

and tasseled.  I will pause,


pluck a moist stalk

and plant it between my teeth,

the very image of Huckleberry Finn

and continue walking toward the river


where I am sure to dip my toes

in waters warmed by summer.

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