Heat hangs in the air.
A sticky bog to slog, move forward.
Dampening shirts, drying mouths.
But, animals go about their business.
Nary a complaint.
Robins, wrens chirp as though in competition.
Ducks, geese gather by the pond.
A fawn gazes up at me from a bush.
As though sorry I’m wading through goo.
A few Poplar seedpods float by.
Inviting me to make a wish or two.
A pink and gray butterfly hovers atop a coneflower.
The beebalm planted last summer, sings triumphant.
Stretching out and up in glorious profusion.
Red, pink, lavender mops.
Tall rag dolls, hair unkempt, in strings.
Covering eyes, noses, mouths.
Mysterious, exotic.
Waving honey bees in to drink.
Sweet nectar quenching thirst.
Could they spread the word to hummingbirds
before summer days dispersed?
Lynn Benjamin
June 27, 2024
