This Summer Day
It's five-thirty
in the morning,
and in a nearby yard
a dog is barking
for his breakfast.
A cardinal serenades
the dew-draped maple.
An unidentified singer
in a neighboring tree
provides counterpoint.
I'm sitting barefoot,
ready for the steam.
A captive fan bestows
an artificial breeze,
one for me to remember
as the temperatures
and humidity blast off.
I may have to dig up
memories of last winter,
stored in the root cellar
of my mind for such a day.
Even the crows are out,
cawing: "Hot, hot, HOT!"
