Last May

Dear Tennessee,

You rained a little too hard and then pretended that you never did. A bright hot day to start the week, your resolution to behave. And I forgive you. Because you are a shade of green I never saw before. You smell like pollen and flowers being born. And because you lie with me in the grass and we giggle while we look at the sky as the all-too-serious-kids race by, ambition in tow. And because you, Nashville, are accepting. Because I feel your soil affirming me, and I can feel my soul affirm you. O Nashville, you are a little sticky, but then when I see the season’s first lightening bug, I will forgive you of that, too. I wish that I could exist within your summer, but I will only dream of you and hammocks, and front porches for these next few months. Dream of feeling American and sunny and hot and green.

I am in love with you.
Until August...