summer’s sordid Embrace

steam sweat from sweet sycamores

and pines and oaks and ash alluring

each eye.  passersby and whiskey and rye

and someone sang about such things

when others forgot how to sing.

i think that summer is near.  i think that

Her salty beads of afternoon delight are

pressing against the loose pores of

this thick June air.  clouds hanging

heavy and heaving with belabored breaths.

fat, dark storm heads pregnant with winds

and rains and clashes and slashes of light

separating earth from air from water from fire.

this Summer’s love lingers longer at

my bedside.  tawdry lace sheets fall

graceful against Her breasts…

damp from the humid sounds of Summer

waiting in the wings.