Fifth Season, End of Summer

She dangles her pointy, ultra white fingers

Into the water, never fully submerging any

Body part for fear of losing herself

To a moment, her black rimmed sunglasses

The only reminder she is in the Oklahoma sun.

 

Her bowed back and curved smile

Glimpse from behind a thick, dark curtain

Of uncertainty.  Four Seasons pushes its way out

From the indoor vinyl record player,

A humming of the air conditioner competing

Against a lawn mower’s muffled spin.

 

Hushed voices fill the crowded classroom

As high pitched murmurs await

The arrival of the sweat browed professor.

Bare knees barely touch as the whispers

Of the September heat hint at crunchy grass.

Fall is just her beginning, her first

Season of non-childhood, first choices.

 

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