rumble of thunder, cicadas sing
o summer rain: humidity’s promise kept
— for once — when lightning flashes
we lie and try to tell ourselves
it falls the same on the unjust, too
Tag Archives: summer
a sonnet about bird watching in the firebox
The little brown birds bring updates
in exchange for popcorn and promises
of future employment; here we are all flying lost
searching for homeward thermals, familiar landscapes
some sign that we are, at last, following the plot
and some indication of time passing, not
one more digitally-enhanced mirage —
Dear Lord grant me a manually-wound clock
something I am responsible for doing, a making
even if it’s only to write down each unfolding
moment: a record to keep, a memory
to pass on when, at the proper moment for telling,
for a small bit of stale popcorn I can pass on my part of the story
and also – if I’m lucky – to fly away.
Sonnet about when the HVAC in a heat wave
We will not be broken by the heat
though the dogs languish and pant
in spite of fresh cold water in the kitchen.
There is no option but exist as best we can
soak in the cool morning air
embrace the relief of night rain
the sky cracking lightning after the long
sweaty burn of the day
taking in the dance of bats after sunset
as we sit on the back porch, finding
civility in the constant experiment
defining our home – your rescued plants
my unfinished projects – against a world
of mass-produced distraction.