scraped knees

on hot asphalt

hopping the fence

of the house next door

to see my second family,

running around barefoot

in the front yard

playing tag

with the fireflies.

short sleeves and shorts

help fight against

the suffocating humidity,

the smell of bug spray

permanently in my nostrils.

fiery oranges fading into

vibrant red petals

supported by deep green stems,

the pollen freckles my face

as my hands reach

for the highest branches

feet scraping against

its bark-covered back

when I stretch tall enough

to reach the perfect apple

I bite into crisp, green skin

the outside a little bit chalky-

but the sweetness of it

overwhelms my taste buds.

flaming orange

with a waxy touch

bids the breath of winter

Goodnight.

I hear a crunch

beneath my reluctantly worn shoes

was it a stick,

maybe the falling leaves,

or the frosty grass?

I feel my cheeks go red

as the chill in the air

engulfs my face.

I see a rainbow of beautiful leaves

in my mother's

'leaf scrapbook'

that will probably be mine

one day.

I smell on the smoke

from the bonfire

that keeps me warm

but takes my breath

at the same time.

it barriccaded us

inside the muted house

with only the sound of snow hitting

the large, white pillow outside

to comfort our ears.

I see the pure ivory snow

was it three inches?

maybe five?

I smell cinnamon,

or is it pine?

I'm not quite sure

I don't feel my nose

or my ears

or my finger tips

or my toes

but I know mom

has hot chocolate

waiting for me

inside,

so I still

somehow

feel warm.