The breeze tastes sweet and warm
of sun
of ripe fruit
and of grass
It ruffles my hair and
plasters my sweat-wet shirt on my skin

It blows doors shut
and wafts in windows to cool hot pies and
fill empty spaces

In the gentle lull of the wind
trees creak and shiver,
fresh cut grass is
tossed onto the walk
and the clouds are pushed
like cotton-ball puffs
across a blue-glass sky

At night the wind carries
fireflies on its wings
and sweet chirping songs of crickets
and frogs

When the breeze stops playing
with my hair
or creaking the loose gate
and begins
chafing my skin and
redding my nose and cheeks
making breath visible

You know the summer wind has left
But you remember its playful soul