Reflections of Summer Ghosts
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
I.
I know there is
So much
To be grateful for—
I know.
And yet, this
Nothingness hangs
In the humidity, like
Cicada song,
And I drift through
The day, lost
As the wind.
II.
Cicada song swells and thins
Through the wide sky,
Sunflowers turn their faces
To the ground,
Wheat awaits the approaching windrower,
Summer turns in her gauzy shift
Towards the shimmering horizon,
Trees gradually light their lamps,
And somewhere, below, a ghost moves
Looking exactly like me.