Things Poetic

 Summer sometimes, the sun is seriously shining, something bad under the cover of the umbrella or under a hat might my skin survive, maybe meanwhile, my most hopeful plans exist outside of everything around, everyone I know or thought I knew right back to the start

 Summer at one Summer sun, reflections flitting across eyes wakes them up, and lifts the day, above the joint act into the mouth smiling, stretching feline enwrapped in the blankets cool air tickles the skin lifting into bumps, small and large daze lifts the haze up coffee read