Tuesday, July 21, 2020



Summer morning
Flags hang flaccid
Syrupy air
Thick enough to
Dog paddle through
Even the dew
Is salty like sweat
All you can do is 
Get outside and play!
Go ride your bike!
Around the block 
Around the block
Down the Beatty St. hill
Whoosh of cool breeze
Never lasted long.
Getting older is torpor
I rarely venture forth
Always seems like 
Way too much work
Stillness, glistening skin
Languid slowness
The lethargy of midsummer
Waiting for the fall
First frost, low clouds
The sound of the green
Getting sucked clean 
From worn out leaves
Yellow then brown then
A crisp crunch in my fist
Opened to the wind 
A sudden scattering
Like confetti
Like ashes


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