In the hot afternoon, we turn on the
sprinklers,
for Avery, aged 6, and Frieda from next
door.
Bees hum to the clover, but at the light
touch
of the first drops they lift, six bees
together,
and glide in a single mission to the
vegetable garden.
Avery and Frieda dance at the edge of the
lawn
Wait, says Frieda, what powers do
we have?
Summer, childhood, where every day is long,
blue sky, green grass, frozen bananas on an
icypole stick.
Nothing is perfect in this world, not even
slow time on warm days,
but the children make something of it,
more lasting than memory.
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