Iced Tea

On long, green grass
We sit cross-legged
Sweet, iced tea like cold
Cylinders against our thighs

You breathe earth,
Damp like smoldering ash
After spring rain
You smile and drape a frail
Arm around my small shoulders

The sun, slowly pulls
Its red scarf across the sky
Pine-scorched, thick with dusk
Ice shifts in tall glasses
Melting at the corners of your eyes

I shrug free from the heat
In your arm and go in
For the pitcher
the lemon wedges
the crushed ice
My glass as empty
As the sky