Country

Early summer is a curious child
rubbing supple green leaves
between her fingers, deeply inhaling
spice from a rose, staring dead-on
into a dragonfly’s eyes. Early summer
is anticipation, rolling in soft
pasture grass, purpling fingers
with muscadine juice, searching the woods
for a maypop vine. Early summer lives
in my chest, spreads to my fingertips,
ends up on this page.

***

Prompt via NaPoWriMo.net: “Write a poem that is based in the natural world.”