Sun wrecks my view of trees
Squinting only brings tears,
A loss of good moisture.
Wanting to see leaves move,
An arm casts a shadow
across my eyes,
A defensive posture
Like the sun is attacking.
A harsh lack of clouds.
Some waving humidity rises
From lawns too hot to mow.
It's not yet noon,
Maybe the forecast holds afternoon clouds,
A pop up thunderstorm?
The birds now quiet
Would chatter gratefully
For a mid-day shower.
Even a hot breeze
Would give relief.
JM
1 comment:
I love this poem. It has been a long hot summer where I am and this described many days here as well as my daily hope of a thunderstorm. Lovely.
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