It’s morning and the sky winks bright blue patches,

little sun spots, strings of

coagulated cloud bits. I am

watching summer go, waving

goodbye shyly (as when any guest leaves

you are glad of their leaving and

looking forward to the change). I

am sitting on the front porch of my

soul, laughing at stale jokes just to

be polite, watching the air come

down from the lake with a trace

of fish water and a hint of

oil. I am falling backwards into

a new daydream and holding my

breath just to see if I can.

by Cher Bibler