this young summer so far
by TIM HOGAN
newborn dreams
the trees in their
raggamuffin abundance
half-cut by stormwinds and rain
they wave shaggily to wooded isle
paths un-dry
muddy even
under the near July
twilight
mirroring the water
where the swimmers brim
above the stones
that weigh down the watery womb
filled with little hips
swimming towards the greater lips
a breaststroke to the far buoy
through the evening water bobbing
light as the sky’s blue
reflecting back your eye
to see it
cautiously on thin trunks
old belly body
walks to his big flop
Splash!
Tim Hogan is a writer and library clerk in Chicago.