I remember summer in the country;
roadways laid bare and empty
all around me, like

gray dragons crisscrossing
the grassy world, and
the sound of wind playing peacefully in the green,
drawing its heated breath across me
a line in the sand where once I stood

I remember the roar of traffic,
a single car like a
whirlwind on that empty road

I remember the endless days,
flipping like notebook pages in a dusty wind
every time a new adventure, a new challenge ultimately
as insignificant as the one before it

I remember those days
and even now, I miss them.