April Poem-A-Day 3: We mark these searing days

After starting a day late, I had to add another poem to bring me up to day three. I'm finding it interesting how much I've forgotten about writing poetry. And each poem is like a newly discovered piece of myself, waiting and wanting. It's fun.


We mark these searing days
with water spilled, dripping
from soaked t-shirts,
freshlets spidering
thighs and ankles.

Dawn finds us
daring the world,
epipens abandoned
as if we no longer needed them.

Burning grass smoke
hazed vision,
slipped between the trees,
faintly scenting our hair.

The dogs are quiet now.

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