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 2 times
Written on 2026-07-10 at 14:57

Tags Summer  South 

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