Summer Means Cover Bands in the Park
(Ode to Fleetwood Masque)
And we don’t wait to dance, rising
from our camp chairs with an oof
as soon as the first chord lands,
stampeding slowly past blanket buffets
of charcuterie boards, brownies,
and sweating bottles of sauv blanc.
We rock out to every song, even dance
to Landslide, early August sun still high
over this silver-haired ocean. When
the band takes a break, the tall grass
calls us back, but we remain swaying,
humming to our own distant echoes.
*
Hilary King is a poet originally from Virginia and now living in the San Francisco Bay Area of California. Her poems have appeared or will appear in Ploughshares, Salamander, TAB, Belletrist, SWWIM, Fourth River, The Cortland Review, and other publications. She is the author of the book of poems, The Maid’s Car, the founder of Bay Area Poets, and an editor for DMQ Review.
I love this–such energy, such movement, such authenticity