Summer shows herself in popsicles. And although the river is low, you can still reach the water if you stretch far enough. Just remember to take off your socks. There are apartments down the road with rows of rope hammocks, perfect for you and a friend, and trees on your campus, perfect for climbing and falling and attracting a crowd. She tells the grassy fields to sprout dandelions just for you, and even though the railroad bridge is doused in her showers, it is still good for climbing. This is how she shows herself. In five dollar fried chicken lunches and thrifted outfits and friends who photograph them and that story you tell people about that time a stranger gave you a ferret against your will. She thrives in beautiful places and people to share them with. In songs and in the quiet moments. But mostly, when you see her, it is in laughter and in light. And some days, like today, that’s all you really need to know about the universe.