Retired in Summer

Waves lapping on the sandy shoreline
Grains of sand stuck to the bottom of my feet
Developing a slight sunburn on the back of my neck
And on the side of my arms
Instantly cooled off as I heal my wounds in the lake
Not just the burns, but also the stress, the internal chaos
My senses acute to the extreme
As if in a dream
I can taste the oxygen streaming out of the trees
I can hear the breeze
I can hear a cricket from a mile away
And a fat cat purring on a windowsill in a house across the lake
If only I could retire permanently in summer
Swim in sangria parties
As the days swim into each other
'Til I forget whether it's Sunday, Tuesday, or a Statutory Holiday
This is the luxury that has been granted to me this summer
Wasting time, chasing time, doesn't matter
Time has retired, too

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Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

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