ode to summer

When I look back at the season past
I thumb through photos in the months
that seem to reflect its character,
or precious moments
I want to hold close
and remember.

And I found
my feet by a chair carved in the ground
pomegranates for dinner,
flowering weeds between my fingers,
painted toenails chipped,
the bounty of our old garden,
surprise pumpkins,
a baby crawling,
a blushing sky at sunset,
moths on our bedroom light,
And I thought
of the fan buzzing every night
and a week of cold baths
frozen mango in cups -

and then I found these two photos
seemed to sum up it all,
the last shutter to close on our old room,
(my eyes dark and heavy with moving)
and then of the little room
my mum and I use for musing,
in the early morning light
knitting or psalming or just being still,
remembering the move past
and the big one ahead,
against walls
where filled up holes
drift like clouds overhead,

this summer
has been hot
and flooding
and shaking
and shifting,
our moving, and making
something new out of the old
and in my heart,
hope, sky, art,
blue blue blue.