Real Summer.

This is real summer, when you
can smell the pungent fragrance of
cologne and sweat, deodorant
melting off of showered skin.

This is late summer, and the
warm breeze stirs your memory with
thoughts of Fall, but fall is far
away for north Florida.

This is still Summer, even though
we call this Fall semester, and moisture
rests in that space between your back
and the books you carry there.

And you dream of summer, of the
ones that came and went, of high
school anxieties and rain drenched
clothing, coming home late in the afternoon.

This is real, this summer, and you
know that your hope and early fall
luck will be remembered, and stirred
again, when the Sun is high

And the season, Summer,
perspires into Fall.