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

Reading: Midsummer by Naomi Sara