Hello, June

by Arthur Klepchukov

you wake from a sweaty slumber
and send a quiet wave past the
illuminated curtains. she’s here.
ignore the clocks
sleeping in shouldn’t be a secret
you won’t miss her gentle, warm debut
it runs through us in waves
until the school bells chime.
but you don’t think of that end
so far away from today’s balmy skin
you shed your sheets and rise to
sunny heartbeats free of worry or
the chill of risk.
you stand at ease,
wind warming you naked
shadows blinking, dancing across
your chest from a thousand trees
all lost in bloom and
even their shade is but a snug embrace
the smiles across your face emit the
first sound of the season:
“hello, June.”