She beams at me with that look in her eyes. The ball cuts through the air, her gaze shifts to the sky. I was never fond of Summer, but one look at that sweet face, Tells me all I need to know about this realm in it’s true state. A foot in the future, my eyes on the past. My head in the clouds, my nose with the grass. She bounds up to me, and nothings so hopeless, A Summer’s day in Dublin The world in soft focus. -Jenny Thompson