 |
| 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)
Wonderful poem Kathie!
ReplyDeleteDenise, I am glad you liked it!
ReplyDeleteOh, 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!
ReplyDeleteI 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!.
Kat
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!
DeletePerhaps that should be "conversely".
ReplyDeleteEither way it works for me, and I have done the same thing myself at times!
Delete