Beware the Curse of Summer

they say there is a grove in the forest. shifting feet and darting eyes tell a story of confusion. it reaches us like a tickling thought that can’t be read. twitching hands and curling fists tell a story of wrongness.

once upon a time we left the house on callused feet and trailed curiosity behind us. anticipation wept against our will but our will sliced and tore with practiced strokes. we were never told not to go.

the grove was welcoming and gathered us in it’s arms. pinching our cheeks and sighing with joy. we wondered why they were against this place. who are you we asked as our breath slipped from our lips.

do you remember when we climbed the tree by the creek? i didn’t want to, but neither did you. we did it anyway for reasons we still don’t understand. we sat at the top and saw the setting sun and ate the blueberries we’d picked from bushes we never found again. the juice stained our fingers and we licked the taste off and laughed.

do you remember when we went swimming at the little lake while the sun gave us comfort and sought out our wounds? we held our breath underwater in a parody of death before we knew what it meant.

do you remember when it was cold when the sun was high and bright and the vibrancy of the day almost drowned out the dark? we shivered as we were surrounded by stones of ice and he tore words into our skin we won’t ever read.

‘we know who you are’ we tell the wind and the grove. you are warmth and death. laughter and scraped knees. bark under our hands and sticky fingers. you are the darkness with the burning hot. you are the sweeping sun and the cold harvest. you are summer.