Summer seems swollen this year—
grass evergreen after torrents of rain,
the lake behind my parents’ cabin
filled to the brim and spilling
across the dock onto the stone path.

Guessing the first tomatoes we harvest
this summer will bulge beyond belief.
Only fitting that the blackberry bush
blooms in abundance so far, too.

Wish I could bottle the beauty
of it all and drizzle drops of nature
across the foreheads of the sick
at heart, baptizing them with it
so they might blossom
and bless others with empathy.

Such a swollen summer—
wonder if it might give birth
to a harvest of kind humanity
that feeds generations to come.
That, indeed, would be swell.