Foul summer, all along my back muscles knot and pull. I sit in stillness.
Another summer morning—sitting with back pain listening to rain.
Hovering fireflies— we find the missing chicken perched on the tractor.
Dishes and laundry surge like weeds—stiff as a tree trunk, I convalesce.
This summer I attended a rainy but lovely Rolling Sculptures car show in downtown Ann Arbor with my family. The poems below were inspired by the experience.
Raindrops on the roof of the old car vibrating with the engine’s roar.
Closed storefront, main street— watching well-dressed diners rush under umbrellas.
At the car show, old folks float around propped shined hoods, recalling fondly.
Realizing my own confusion—out the window a young tree sparkles.
My family runs out to see the deer—chairbound I watch them going
Because I cannot my sister-in-law shaves up cabbage for slaw.
Deep summer on every surface water rings