It is July
It’s the cool draft of dusk on my bare arms
The heaviness of the summer air draped across my chest
It’s the buzz of the cicadas and the intimate calls of the geese
It’s the haze of the lilac sky in the distance, the blue fog creeping up
in its wake
It is the silence, the ripples in the water, the language of the quiet
It is July and I am learning that I no longer need to be afraid
– olivia gwyn
