Searing heat blankets my town
no rain of any sort on the horizon
the creek (what’s left of it) lying
still as death a thin film on its surface.
These late June days are longer than
I remember the sun high and hot
for hours and hours and though I love it
and even embrace the challenge of
shouldering through as if facing a
monumental onslaught of snow and ice
stocking up groceries and staying put
indoors for the duration I do hope
for a giant swashbuckling storm to roll
rollicking over the hills and bluffs
inciting the creek to riot upon its banks
a wind making everything twirl and dance.