summer toes

      Tip-top breezy leaves, pre-paper shuffling through the evening's loop and oopsa daisy. It's after supper, sun still hot and high. My feet throb from a steady diet of bare feet and flip-flops, the pain of which is made up for in wearing skirts day without end. I hear ... warm tires spooling asphalt, the bass of a good stereo in a cheap car, squawky birds too tired for sleep, kids yelling yards into grass stains, dishes to dishwashers, dust to dust. Chip-polish toes, ice cubes have melted, Anne of Avonlea, sticky knee and elbow crooks, oh the laundry can wait.