Another day in the 90s.

The herbs in their pots
    slurp up water
like dogs too long in the heat.

Eventually the sun shifts enough
    so light filters through
the plum tree overhead,
    and the patio becomes bearable–
if not quite welcoming.

Even the neighborhood squirrels
    take an afternoon break.

A wasp visits the fountain,
    flies too close to the falling water,
is rudely shoved beneath the surface,
    slowly emerges, crawling onto a stone,
then, after drying, flies off again;
    were I his size,
I'd cheerfully accept the dunking.

Lunch concludes
    with a square of dark chocolate;
softened by the heat,
    it smears our fingers.

There is a promise–
    to which we cling–
of a late afternoon storm–
    or, at least,
of sheltering clouds.

The a/c cools the house–
    why, then, do we sit out here?
Seems the sun and heat have drained us
    of the energy needed
to move back inside.

Still, before the chocolate morphs
    into a sticky, brown puddle…

Text and image © 2021 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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