Aye, the summer dark feet

I've stood beneath green skies - yes, green the way I sees them - In the weeks since I've last written. I've taken early morning bike rides down straightaways - trails that lead to and parallel the crisp, cool tide. In the weeks since I've last written, yes. I've spent pacified nights on a screened porch - sparkled by fireflies in the inky dark. I dreamed of my brother and sister - how I miss them. Southern weather has come to visit - but for just a few days. I've targeted buoys with endless pebbled ammunition. In my weeks. I've, too, spent nights in the ceremonies of my own porch - feasted upon by mosquitos. Every evening I witness South Portland head to an early sleep - we own the town upon its slumber. And, aye, my feet are darkened by the long days under the sun. I've swam in the ocean, with its shocking temperature stealing my lungs. Sometimes, the clouds appear as pinkish smudges, warped by this very strange

latitude. And I love everything. Deep breathes - the salt flavored air! And what is a night without a walk on the beach? I've deciphered the moonshine as it collides with eddys by the coast. And I've met the spirit of my house, its a mirthful ghost.