I have learned my seasons
\nfrom Ohio.
\nJune is a flag from a nation of hollyhocks.
\nIt is new dust
\nfrom the old mud of May,
\nthe uncertainty of April.
\nI\u2019m not sure Africa in the south
\nunderstands this,
\nor the outback
\nwith its own unique clearness.
\nWhere else could you look into infinity?<\/p>\n
But June is the face of a girl, in Ohio.
\nIt smiles at you,
\nlets you out of school.
\nIt is a basket of sandwiches,
\nmorning all day long.
\nIt is a puppy learning its name.
\nJune is a cool bed,
\nan easy dream,
\nan orangeade glow,
\nan aftermath of wet ice cubes.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know when my first June happened.
\nThe chug of the ferry to Cedar Point?
\nThe first sunfish of the season?
\nStrawberries from a pail?
\nAll of it is June.
\nAll of it
\nfalls into a giant topaz of blue.
\nI am happy,
\njust to walk in it,
\nfeel it gather in my clothes,
\nmy hair,
\nraining such improbable beauty
\nI am never left the same,
\ndisintegrated into stars.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have learned my seasons from Ohio. June is a flag from a nation of hollyhocks. It is new dust from the old mud of…<\/p>\n