Heavy beesFly low patternsOver thirsty earth.Prop wash dust stormsScatter desiccated petals.Reconnaissance for aPollen payload.
Summer, slick with sweatin her hot orange beach chair, calls“You, pour me a drink.”
Red running down legs,staining fingertips,cushions of an old couch.Someone coughing.
Color’s changing hue.
Summer hides her heat beneath a gown of emerald,but she will burn you.