JULY 6

This is the season of burrs
oblong purses that catch
shoelaces, snatch straps even
in your rubber flipflops, work
their way between your toes
when you merely go out to move the hose
so you come back appareled
in these little sojourners --
tough tenacious survivors
riding the dry heat
spikey seeds, their nest
around them, better
than legs,
better than wings
they use those that move
never moving

this is also
my mother’s birthday
she loved summer
in her honor
today I’ll swim, long
sidestrokes in the river
below the rapids, pulling
the darkening sky across its purling
surface in her memory.