june is kind. the way
it stores pockets of rain
to give us breaks to run

out and grab the laundry
before the next thunder
shakes us back into our
nest next to the window 
as i fold warm rags with sun
burned hands. i sweat 

getting ready for the next
load until the air turns 
on, cooling my neck
like a kiss. i give my
happiness like a prayer
to the clouds and wish
i knew the names of things
june grows other than grass,
daylight, and love i have
for you. this month deserves 
a plaque, or at least a poem 
as it gives and takes and breathes 
everything tall inbetween our feet

before the heat of july
before everything starts to sink.