Give me feet caressed by bristled grass;
and legs wound loose in feline rope.
Give me hands deftly occupied,
and arms filled with captured sunshine.
Ruffle my hair with a playful breeze.
Tickle my nose with a potpourri
of wood smoke, apples and geraniums.
Dazzle my eyes with an August sun.
Let me drink in summer with all my senses
and discover a few I never knew I had.
The sleekly purring dryer is fine for winter,
but when summer sings in August,
Give me a country clothesline!
—Donna Swanson
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