Friday, June 29, 2018

Heat-wave Poem With a Grave Warning!


note; this poem is written with utmost respect for roofers, road-crews, 
and farmers who still stack hay-bales in a haymow!




The green leaf droops where the keen breezes fall
The perky petunia wilts in its pot
The old milk cow won’t ‘co’ boss’ when we call
Where we all have one thing in common; it’s hot

Far away turquoise sea-song monotone
Lures, while we swab salty streams from our necks
Morning-mist melts like a mint ice-cream cone
And high-noon rip-ripples across streets and decks

Sweet tea poured slowly on ice, crackle-pops
Lemonade luster winks in frosted glass
Shadows pool dark and deep where sun-sweep stops
And we seek sweet cool in its shallows of grass

Sprinklers toss two-second diamonds for tots
While brave youngsters shriek and dogs leap and bark
And sidewalks sport red and pink polka-dots
Where popsicles follow us home from the park

…and willows hang limp in the heat of mid-day
And lunch salad crunch is a fork full of bliss
We linger in its mini-holiday
To tickle wee toes and noses with a kiss

Cloud schooners sail by on high seas summer-blue
Time is a fellow, mellower it seems
Where joy is a little boy half-past two
With garden-dirt clinging to bare feet and dreams

Stars slide from heavens to land in our eyes
Stinging us as we heave-ho if we must
The wind finds a foothold and dips and dives
Stirring up dizzying spirals of dust

Some crank up ‘the air’, others turn on fans
Some soak in splashes of laughter and lakes
Some just keep going and don’t change their plans
While others do as little as it takes

Whatever you fancy when a heatwave hits
Whatever your work-wish-swim-fish-treat-drink
Make the most of its sticky, icky bits
‘Cause winter is not as far off as you think

© Janet Martin




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