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!"