Spring evaporates, elongated days
of humid sunshine arrive.
Abbreviated night trembles on
the precipice of seasonal solstice.
Full moon languidly rises
above wetland tules and mist.
Swollen orb pulsates, glows,
levitates between cypress limbs.
Dim light infiltrates darkened rooms,
instigates summer’s sensual itch.
Jennifer Lagier and her three spoiled dogs live beside the Pacific Ocean where they entertain poets, a few select mad men and a small gopher snake.