Three hours before midnight
on a fresh June day is the
brightest time of the season.
The light dancing on my
dusty window also showers
the ripe forestry.
How delicious for the sun
to be so vibrant as
many are tucked to sleep.
The last children playing add
peace over choas,
sweet shrills bouncing on roofs.
What separates me from total sun
is the bug net on my bedroom window
and my unnegotiable mortality.
