Summer wears well 
her claustrophobic greens. 
In the tentative sunlight 
hazy images are cast 

on mid-morning walls, 
while slight breezes sweep 
thoughts of unfettered times 
from dusty corners. 

Then yesterdays collide with 
nows arrived too soon, 
trampling them in a backward 
march to a careless youth 

spent in a body burnished gold 
by the sun of other summers 
under crimson-edged clouds 
seeded with tomorrow's tolls 

And on forest green nights, 
marked by tapping feet 
on tiled surfaces and 
pills in pleated paper cups, 

I take unauthorized leaves, 
travel over sky-topped trees 
faster than that golden-tailed bird, 
then drift lazily 

over distant figures 
who flirt with dancing waves, 
while on the sandy beach 
sun-suited children laugh.

copyright 2000 Mary Erickson

I saw some seagulls 
dodging cars 
and wondered why. 
Why trade morning mists 
that rise from seas, 
turquoise blue, 
for scorching desert suns 
that crack cement. 

Lovely and forlorn, 
they fly in random patterns 
ordained by changing times. 
A world that turns 
too swiftly strews 
its creatures to places 
where dazed we search 
for semblances of yesterday. 

I clutch my lost list 
and stand watching 
while they hover 
for a moment, 
brave and beautiful, 
above the K-Mart sign. 

copyright 2000 Mary Erickson