In the August Heat

(Even Poetry can recall the warm days of summer.) ** In the August Heat ** ——————————————————————— August roasts the red pears Sitting crowded on the sill…Spoiling With no protection from The open, lime-tinted curtains Speckled with tiny violets. Shimmering sunbeams stream diagonally Through the room’s air, while outside, A lost cricket, cornered under a deck step, Chirps! A repeating string of chirps! His true place is elsewhere In the night, by a willing mate. The natural Balance of his 250-million-year-old species Is upset — with only the heat sustaining him… With his chirping! Chirping rondo! With the promise that she will come. So, there he crouches. Night…Night will come. Heat will stay. His summer life yet has time to go. So he waits. Chirping! His chorus repeats! She will come. They will touch when meeting Then flee on to their otherwhere. The coming night’s course will please. So he waits…Earnestly chirping! Feeling the vibrations along his black back, He waits. In his summoning melody, He chirps! And, she will come. ———————————————————- (c) sally young Eslinger 1/2022