I am barefoot all Summer

I am (whole body; windchime)

barefoot all Summer. On borrowed bikes racing swallows; 

my feet stamped in the waving grassland, 

heels kicking up the rocks and prickled stems

poking at my feet. In the corner of my sky: red, fire engine red, 

curdling a chance of rain. I could brush the monstrous velvet clouds, I could fold one 

in half, press and tear it for my scrapbook. There’s a chattering from the bushes, the bushes; a bushel of bunnies, enough for a bewildering

brace or two. Fish aplenty in the crick. Linn’s gleaming like silver-on-velvet. Dear friend; kimmer; font – Shimmerer, I’ve tied 

my pantlegs together, packed my regalia of walnuts 

and black nightshade berries to burst and slurp

Later. Hands deep in cool mud beneath the old oak tree, silty 

river undisturbed. I am sunning on a river-boulder,

rock warming down to my heart.