"I Tumble..."

               by Marla Houghteling

into the green abyss of summer,

a veteran proud of my scars.

Blackberry brambles cross-hatch

my legs with fine red lines,

poison ivy burns my fingers

with angry welts.

The wasp has thrown

his stunning lance;

my skin responds

with ice then fire.

I want to be swallowed up

by summer's large hot mouth

as huckleberries stain my lips

and clothes leave marks where

the sun has not been,

'til my head is bursting with

the racket of locusts and crickets

and I'm hypnotized by that

bird of mystery who sings

the world's last evensong

down in the woods at dusk.