To a Rabbit

Fifty-five miles an hour.
Dark, late.
Road snakes ahead, winding out of sight.
White line, yellow line, yellow line, white.
Suddenly, movement.
Briefly illuminated, an instant to react.
Too quick. Too slow.
A thud - dull, sick-making, then gone.

The road continues, winding on, out of sight.
It neither knows nor cares.
White line, yellow line, yellow line, white.
Forgive me.

"Ah, Summer"

"Ah, Summer"

The Sun is a lush, ripe lemon

nestled in my cool, firm hands.

Carefully, I squeeze out and save each precious golden drop.

Mix with gentle rains,

sweeten with friendship and love.

Eagerly I drink it down, savoring the taste on my tongue.

Too soon the glass is empty.

Greedily, I lick my sticky fingers.

Nothing refreshes like Summer!