summer’s last day

by brent newberry

i found her limping in a circle

in my driveway,

vinyl skipping under the needle,

she shivered as i picked her up,

moving to a song i couldn’t make out.

her hair was washed-out, highlights

and roots fading like ink

on an ancient page telling tales

of adventure and adversity.

it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay

i whispered

as i held her,

palms open

like the prayer it was.

shhh, shhh, shhh,

i whispered

as i carried her,

and her humming stopped.

it seemed like the right thing to do,

we lay flowers when people die,

so i laid her

at the base of the sunflower

she might have been looking for,

and i sat with her

so she wouldn’t die

alone.

i’d never prayed

for

a bumble bee before.

i’m here, i’m here, i’m here,

i whispered

as i held my breath,