Not shy…
more like a pusher… it’s rising barometer
daring us to inhale it.
Smirking at times.
And yeah… we push back
in the beginning.
Because we think this may be the one that saunters in slowly…in our time. Not it’s.
This is the year we’ll get everything done so we can enjoy.
go ahead...laugh away.
But we can never push it back…It comes, and seeps in cracks…and warms everything
to hot. To scalding...even.
Old tired pools beckon…plead
…even beg.
Work never ends…it slows…
In the heat.
But never ends…
albeit hot under black fur.
even though they do have cute white sneakers.
but...Pleading all the same.
Then… evening rolls in
in pink and purple and Gray
cool colors
calming colors
healing colors
And we beckon another day.
gratefully.
"In summer, the song sings itself."
~William Carlos Williams
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