Summer Lull

Sunlight comes down through the glass
And motes of dust sprinkle like snow
Though it’s not cold at all;
A warm haze permeates the house,
And a mild breeze riffles the lace curtains;
I feel a sleepiness, a haze.
This luxurious calm,
The heat a blanket and a veil
I find myself slow moving,
Like a foot in ankle deep pools,
Wading in the light
And out in the bright sun
I feel like a little mouse
Perched upon the edge of the world,
At the edge of the dining table,
Looking out over the streets
And the cars
And the dogs sunbathing
And I pluck a dandelion—beautiful flowers—
Right off the grass, and a few more—
Tied up with a particularly long and robust blade of grass,
A tiny bouquet, for my mother,
This summer lull,
Full, not quite bloated, a little salient,
Like a jar of fruit jam, just opened.