Summer Grasses

  She jumps at the fireflies that bob above her head. It was summer now, so the hot sticky grass sticks to her ankles. Louise had always loved to catch fireflies. She'll put the glowing jar in her room at watch the pulsating lights swirl until one by one they'll fall to the bottom of the jar. But for now, she will jump for fireflies. The moon is full but the sun is still out: the sky is purple and orange. Louise does not hear her mother calling her from walk-around porch. Louise does not smell the fried chicken cooking on the stove nor the lemonade made from the lemons in the grove. She is satisfied with the little lights that dance on the lucid summer breeze. It was one of those summers that Louise knew that would last forever. She would not stop for her dinner, nor for her lemonade, nor for her mother. She knows that she needs to stay with her ankles in the syrupy grass.

Snowball

They hold hands on the branch under the magnolia flowers, each one grasping a snowball. Hers is Wedding Cake his is Granny Smith. His lips turn monster-green as he slobbers and drools all over his crisp yellow shirt. Summer is in full swing for them. Her long blonde curls dip themselves into her cup making her arms sticky. Bees soon swarm around her tickling her arms with their antennas. Letting out a shriek of fear she shoos them away causing the whole brach to shake. Witnessing the unforeseen attack, he makes a gallant slap just in front of her arm. Granny Smiths fall all over her legs, searing her skin with cold. He falls.