Summer Outside

It is only ten in the morning,
I can see heat rising off the sidewalk.

Flies buzz near the windowpanes,
Hit the glass,
Hit the paper I rolled.

Sunlight reflects off cars,
giving all a bright sheen
and suggesting my brewing coffee
is too hot under the circumstances.

I flip the air conditioner on,
put on a jacket.

I close the blinds,
turn on a lamp.

I pause and think,
"How odd, my toes are cold in the summer."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Part of a poem

Immobilized by awe, She stands in the foothills As the distant wildfire haze settles Into the twisting oaks' golden branches.  Beams of solidified sunlight touch That aching part of her She usually shields like a newborn-- Cradling it and preventing its exposure To her burning world.
Read more

Memorabilia

I squint through a window of memories into my past. To protect my sanity, perhaps, I blot out painful recollections as I peruse old photos encapsulating forgotten thoughts. Youthful days appear less melancholy than the present in these carbon-copies of real moments. False illusions of what has been, trick me into believing these days will never be better than then.
Read more