Wednesday, July 17, 2013


Gilded Flicker

Heat blazing
White skies
Flesh turned to liquid
Sticky and salty
Melting into the heat
Cicadas whine
Their whirr reaching a fever pitch
Birds pant in the trees
Shade does no good

The air is still,
Thick and still,
Suffocatingly still,
and still 

It is summer

With autumn but a distant dream
of color, and coolness, and relief.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 17, 2013)


  1. Oh, very nice indeed! You really evoke that hot, motionless atmosphere. Converse to what you wrote on my post, I want to bury myself in a snowbank! Ha!

    I could write a piece about a Flicker that hit my window at my old house. We buried him out in the backyard, between the gnarled roots of an old cedar next to our house.

    If you visit again (and I hope you will) please look for the "Night-shift: a rescue" post which tells how my husband and I rescued a baby robin in our window well - in the middle of the night!.


    1. Kat, I would love to visit again and will look up that post! Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I am so glad you found my Poet Tree Blog!

  2. Perhaps that should be "conversely".

    1. Either way it works for me, and I have done the same thing myself at times!


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