Heat on grass, the shimmer of driveway asphalt. A twinge of mint in the air, bees in their dizzy loops. The beetle, lethargic with his lunch. The whole garden in bloom, an orange I've never seen before. The neighbor's pool, the concentric splashes of children. Rabbits on the late afternoon lawn. The rotation of bicycle wheels on an untraveled road. Raspberries in their green cartons, a handmade sign at the farmers' market. Iced tea with flat, square cubes. Leftover sand from a pond swim. Cutoff shorts and slim-strap tank tops. 85 degrees. New freckles. Late-night phone calls, poetry in my ear. Out of nowhere, like a dream, the delicate shock of happiness. I don't know what to say, except yes.