honey air

the air is thick like honey syrup and we are slaves
to the pull of the sun magnetic upon our icy winter skin
limbs stripped from jeans, extricated from blankety wombs
we run and spill out of our underground caverns to the rolling hills of emerald
the trees still barren, signs of winter's cruelty
the sun azure in a way that makes my bones ache for oceans
my lungs are filled with sweetness and a vague nostalgia
for nights like this eight months ago
walking home in the warm darkness I remember
pavements just like these
and nights I breathed freedom like it came naturally
and days we laid on blankets like this, wrapped up in a comfort
of warmth and togetherness
there is a part of summer that breeds unity
he laughs as he bounces the baby on his hips and she glances
up from the novel she is reading to smile at him as he flicks
ash from the end of his cigarette and
the bare skin of his back is to me while his fingers strum a guitar to
the tambourine player's beat
and breathing comes easy
when the air is thick like honey syrup and grass is cool beneath our feet