Flightless Birds

Though drifting through cool
Water under a relentless sun calms
Sticky, Popsicle-stained youth, I
Embrace warmer currents while others sleep.

During a summer night that was unsettlingly
Cool, I once again found myself moving
Through the night, stepping in cold, freshly
Fallen rainwater before sliding into the tub.

Leaning my head backward, I watched plumes
Of steam surround and confuse errant moths
Pulling them toward the constellations,
Which all became birds with their heads buried in sand.