Lake Carlos

By Eve Coffman

Time slows in summer.

The setting sun appears fixed,
hovering above lofty cattails.
Mosquitoes relish
the lingering heat.

I always want to be in the water.

Mom says, “it’s too late,
you’ve been in there all day.
The tips of your fingers and toes
will shrivel up.”

When we finally go inside, there’s
raisin bread with butter waiting.