Hot Sloppy Hug

It will not last long but I will take it,
a comfortable back porch morning
of bird watching and coffee sipping,
the sunshine casting shadows
on the brick house behind me,
a work of art in red and burgundy -
a horse running between trees,
the shadowed leaves dancing.

I hear the voices of men working,
tools whirring,
cicada choruses,
squirrels chattering,
birds chirping out warnings
as a neighbor’s cat stalks through the shrubs.

I hear two lawnmowers begin,
imagine hurried steps,
the heat stalking them
licking its lips as it inches closer,
waiting to pounce.
They had better hurry.

Even as I write this I feel the heat rising,
the chill on my arms is as gone
as the warmth of my coffee,
each adjusted to lukewarm.
A few more sips and
I will rise and retreat
into the cool dark of the house,
away from the hot sloppy hug
that is summer in the South.



Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 120 times
Written on 2026-07-10 at 14:57

Tags Summer  South 

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
A really nice poem to read on a Saturday morning here in Dordogne. I so do know the circumstance your poem se excellently describes. So clear was it in the reading that I could see and feel it. Indeed, just a few minutes ago I too retreated back indoors and shuttered all the doors and windows against the relentless sun we are having here in Europe. So nice to know you had some pleasure on your back porch. Blessings, Allen
2026-07-11