Capturing Campus: September

Picnic

Why does it always rain on picnic days?
I stumble, picking up the pace
Still, I’m just shy of the group
that somehow knows one another
deeper than I can dive,
which isn’t saying much

They exchange stories like money
smiles like candy
laughs like party favors
before I stop
as they spread, starfish
on beach blankets
and swallow sandwiches
not knowing
that I know
the rain is on its way
because it always rains on picnic days

Capturing Campus: September

The Heat in August

Cotton swabs strung along a sea of blue
threading through gusts of wind
which carry me to a place
white-walled and cement-floored
walked on with worn shoes
thinned with time and eager energy
I reach a door I’ve never opened
with a beating in my chest
that screams excitement, but the nerves linger
catching on breaths
wiping my beaded face–
a gift from the August heat
a new beginning