I think of daisies.
Summer heat filled the day
like a cup of lemonade
left on the windowsill.
Water droplets perched on the grass
like glass pearls winking in the sunlight.
I pointed the water hose at the sky,
pressed my thumb to the aqueous stream
to create a palm tree of cascading rain.
The rod iron door rasped open,
announcing the presence of Abuelita.
“Mijas! Horita tienen otra hermana!”
and we danced in our sun shower.