Summer Prayer Over Fresh Graves

Kamilah Aisha Moon | Poetry

At some point
each day, somewhere,
the sky drenches
what lives.

When it happens
here, deep south sun
swaggers out, shrugs
like it never happened.
Cracked, dark pavement
lightens, mud quick-dries
back into dust
& the leaves’ lustre
makes them look
brand new.

Science or
magic trick, Sun,
please teach us
not to drown.