Midsummer
Reading Time: 2 minutes
Midsummer drifted in on the soft warmth of a July breeze under patches of violet-blue sky, it was then that the petals of the lilac tree that hugged our house darkened to the deepest of purples and Mom would shake her crunched-up little fists after the quickened footsteps of the neighborhood passer-bys who'd broken off a few branches to carry a prized bouquet home as we raced through yards playing hide 'n' seek and sketched chalky boxes with big rainbow numbers into the beaten sidewalk for a game of hopscotch, our eyes dancing until laughs bubbled over as we chanted made-up rhymes to every jump and beat of a tired pink skipping rope hitting the cracked asphalt and every afternoon at three o'clock sharp we crowded to both sides of the street listening for whistling old Mike who gave all the kids gum the flavor of soapy suds in every juicy chew, but what we waited for most was to see the black crow that perched on his shoulder and squawked on command, encircling him as an army of rosy cheeked tiny soldiers with mouths of sweet lavender, gawking at the inky feathers and squeaking and squirming at every rustle of wings and caw, caw, caw © Naomi Sara 2023
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