out of the east it comes . . .(sounding like a rolling deep quiet--or a meadowlark)

There is a certain summer wind

that blows in

Nebraska 

balm of river & prairie  

sun rewinding self to young 

a summer wind

of 

rolled-down 

windows & strawberry boone’s farm wine 

midnight drives 

and

bike rides
high as 

fireflies 

legion ball & copper-tone sun on the wall 

deep purple nights driving the ones 

crickets 

shallow river

sandbars & love 

so much held in this certain summer wind