What do I call them?
Who are they?
Big houses.
Beach. Drive. By myself.
50 mosquito bites. Sun.
January sleeveless fun.
Quiet times.
Houses with windows
Windows with no curtains.
The shuttle taking off.
The sonic boom of the landing.
Balmy breezes in the palms.
Ibis in the yard.
Crocodile pools.
Tea sets and pianos.
Sunroom talks.
Reading books on the twin beds upstairs with my sister.
Contained havoc.
Late night dinner parties.
Amazing salads and steak.
Garlic bread.
Manatee in the river.
Cousins and uncles and aunts.
New ideas. New relationships.
New ways and new people.
Strange visits to the church.
Odd dinners with old friends.
Love shown in different ways.
Affection through time.
As the days get hotter, the clouds grow higher,
Until the clouds topple over themselves in a thunderstorm.
And the rains lash against the windows, the roof, the deck.
Making everything soggy and slippery and musty.
But the greens grow greener, the browns browner, the blues bluer when the sun returns.


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