the weather isn't all it's cracked up to be
mother is dead
tired
and father is living
the last fourteen years of his life
starting right now though he doesn't know it yet
the mosquitos
are biting
but we're children and children
should be seen, not heard
so we slap the mosquitos
off our skin quietly
and we cry ourselves to sleep
ever so quietly
and we imagine
our lives in seasons
one summer after another.
