Shades of green
No summers like the summers
I grew up with
The greens less
green come the Fourth of July
The hiking trails cracked
and bald; the over-story
of leaves
burnt away. The mountains
of my youth flaunting vivacity.
Their hibernation
coming to an end
as ours is just beginning. While it’s still
cool I joke about hibernation.
To wake me up
when the leaves have turned
not just burned into a flare of foliage.
When the heat comes, the riverbeds
lay barren,
And the salamanders scurry
to their caves, almost like we do
one final refuge, from the outside.
Typewriter Rodeo airs each Friday on Texas Standard. 
