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You offer yourself as a 4 o'clock cup of tea — inviting, consoling, a mild chamomile, presented in a proper porcelain set with a saucer that clinks softly against the garden table. But The water burns my tongue, and I cough as I feel the steam slide down my throat. Its bitter bite punctures my tastebuds as I recognize your real flavor — a smooth, settled herbal beverage you'll never be: You were born a manic espresso.

The sweet sex of summer how she sweats. Her earthy musk envelops the dark places. She moves slowly like a porch rocking chair under a flickering yellow light. The mosquitoes bite her savory spots. Her dewdrops drip slowly and lushly. As she flowers, the bees hum her praises and awakens her partner. It's his turn to blush.

Afternoon dancer: A midnight ballerina, With morning good-byes.