An armadillo leaned on a fence,
too wilted to muster a proper defense.
His cowboy hat slouched
like a biscuit overbrowned,
his dignity having long since left town.
The relentless sun blazed down with cheer,
roasting the pasture for the fifteenth month this year.
Grasshoppers staggered.
Mesquite trees panted.
Even the buzzards looked disenchanted.
The dillo squinted west and sighed,
I reckon I'm medium-well inside.
One more degree
and y'all will see
roadside jerky where I used to be."
A bead of sweat rolled down his snout.
He watched it fall. He watched it sizzle.
"Autumn," he grumbled,
"has missed her exit.
She's probably lost near Abilene."
The fence post offered little aid.
The shade was merely shade-adjacent.
He tipped one claw
to his hat and said,
"If anybody spots October,
tell it I'm awaitin'."
The hottest streak of days I've ever known;
Enough rays to heat up both dust and stones.
Heat hangs low beneath the dry clouds.
She smiles and waves continualy and loud.
The nights cool but just a bit.
Much gratitude is offered for it.
Officially, Autumn's just a few days away.
Perhaps she will bring us much cooler days.
Until the next season breaks heated waves,
We'll keep cool and try to be well behaved.
heat wave
withered corn stalks
lawns thirsting for water
livestock too tired to stand up straight
send rain
Today’s September 2d,
but Sam the squirrel is not impressed~
no brisk air, no acorns dropping,
just heat he can’t digest.
He squints up at the cloudless, furnace sky,
tail drooping in sweaty defeat:
“Where’s pumpkin spice and sweater weather?
Why is Texas still a heat-wave cheat?”
Beside him stands an armadillo,
cool as a desert stone.
He shrugs beneath his armored shell:
“Buddy, this is Texas. We own the heat zone.”
The squirrel fans his face with a wilted leaf,
dramatic as dramatic can be:
“I’m filing a fall-weather complaint!”
The armadillo sighs, “File one for me.”
Three thousand chairs are crammed across the field,
A sea of cheap black gowns and melting ice.
We’re sitting trapped without a sunlit shield,
While sweat drips down my neck to mock me twice.
The principal yells names at breakneck pace,
A steady roar from "Aaron" down to "Zane."
I’m stuck somewhere around the middle space,
My rear is numb, my brain feels like pure pain.
By letter M, the afternoon turns harsh,
Lost in a sea of gowns forevermore.
Are we graduating or trapped in a marsh?
The kid beside me starts to nod and snore.
Three thousand names read off without a pause—
I only stayed because my mom said I had to!
Storms are passing with
The heat I could not stand,
The days drag on so slow as
Summer's flames were fanned
Winds calmed the burn
Yet it lingered there,
As stubborn as ever
Hanging on in the air
Just when I thought
That I was truly done,
Then came the rain
And a more gentle sun.
Temperatures are high in Héraclée France.
We bear the heat with the triad of grace, ice, shade
and later in the morning, air conditioning.
The sun is as bright as optical illusion,
‘Worship me, worship me,’ it seems to say,
but I will not look up and ruin my eyes.
Besides, if I’m happy, it looks on indifferently.
if I am wilting, it looks on indifferently,
and I’ve already had one God ghost me.
As I stand in the shade of this ancient deity,
The fact that there’s no cosmic care,
implies no cosmic judgment.
I am an impudent little animal, I suppose.
but a deity should make wondrous promises,
not try to fry you like a falafel.
So, as I negotiate heat and meaning-systems,
- all fiery-Sol foreshadows, is a dry and barren liturgy,
emptied of consolation.
.
.
A song for this:
Meet Me In Love by Blossoms
summers heat or bad case of menopause
Saw a squirrel splooting on a summer noon,
flat on the sidewalk like a furry cartoon.
He stretched his legs wide—north, south, east, west~
declaring, quite boldly, This spot is the best!
His belly met concrete with a satisfied sigh,
while passersby wondered, Is he trying to fly?
But no—he was cooling his heat-weary hide,
a tiny sun-soaked acrobat, splooting with pride.
So if you see a squirrel lying long and low,
don’t worry—he’s fine in his heat-beating pose.
He’s simply a master of summer survival,
splooting his way to a breezy revival.
Tie Dye in July
Like Phulkari women in July
I dye the plain days
then stitch gold flowers where the sun burned me
Like dyeing fabric with turmeric indigo and madder root
I carved yellow joy under the amaltas bench forever
Singing while embroidering with messy thread on the floor
Summer heat reminds me of sorrow
curved in black thread of thorn
With wounded fingers I make the woman
who wore burning coal on her feet
The vibrant red reflects my emotions
and love for my past life
Then I turn to another phase
when shibori binds me in July heat
sashiko mends me with white thread
tie the chaos stitch the light back in
Every color blends and comes together
like a rainbow after rain
Memories are crafted with grey ash
and sometimes with vibrant amber
Healing and wounded
like a storm stuck in a heaven star
Peter pan who lived by the sea,
Found summer as hot as can be.
He sat in the shade,
With cool lemonade,
Birds dropped waste on him from a tree.
I went out in the sunshine
to feel a little glow~
but Texas cranked the thermostat
to way above “too low.”
My forehead felt like frying eggs,
my cheeks began to bake,
my brain said, “Girl, we’re melting,”
like a marshmallow on a stake.
I tried to walk with dignity,
but staggered like a mime~
the sun was doing the hokey-pokey
with my sense of space and time.
My vision wobbled sideways,
my thoughts turned into soup,
I swear I saw a tumbleweed
perform a hula-hoop, loop-de-loop.
And if you hear me muttering
about dancing sycamore trees~
just pat my arm and hand me
a cold drink, pretty please.
A little heat with sweet is nice,
flavor dances on your palate
Lemon and ginger lifting spice,
a little heat with sweet is nice.
Hot devil wearing a disguise,
more than a little she’s a lot.
A little heat with sweet is nice,
flavor dances on your palate.
On this sizzling day of summertime heat
I was hungry for something cold to eat
Until Ben came along
Wearing a swimmer's thong
So, I opted for something hot and sweet
blazing sun in fields
cicadas hum in the trees~
heavy air stands still
dust clouds rise and drift
fields of wheat bow to the wind~
air humid and stiff
heat waves waltz on roads
cool water runs in the creek~
daylight holds its load
warm twilight now sprawls
stars blink in the velvet night~
tall shadows on walls.
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