Alfredo Antonio Arevalo

Dawning

Today, the bee bumbles. A lady whispers
to sun-stunned squirrels once more—

they listen. A whistle nearby
melts into the heat,

melts the heat: a hug so slight
goodbye isn’t in mind.

A dress’s flaring floral pattern
pedals me back to a café’s plot of pansies:

I taste a tinge of iced lemon tea
again—its wintergreen refreshes me

like May flowers. It’s June now;
people sweat out their salt

but this breeze leaves me seasoned.
A boy’s giggle matches his neon socks;

he performs a picture book
through mouth-booms, grins

spilling from constraint,
a wild percussion inside

giddying him up—how does the world
find these perfect pockets

to store this syrup of the soul?
It hums happinesses into coves

we didn’t know we held;
we have breathed an air

we cannot uncrave
permanently. Dawn is

our greatest metaphor: that child’s smile
waltzes in my mind because of it,

because it is a promise.