feverish

the stones leading to my front door aren't round.

they are slabs of speckled concrete. square. plain. light grey.

they aren't dainty. or whimsical.

not like the stones that lead to secret gardens or hideaways where rebellious sophisticates rendezvous.

they are upfront and don't lie about how hard they are. or how people who drag their feet end up with stubbed toes.

but their hardness has welcomed me since the third grade.

this morning i saw a lizard with cracked skin scrambling across the third stone.

spry with anxiety. feverish. urgent.

and around it's back was an interminable string - thin, sheer, taut- attatched to the sun.

summer riding high like a kite.