Shrill summer —

heady spell of drama,

pushed and pulled

to extremes.

A full-throated

shout

of heat and light and

expectation,

swollen

beyond tolerance.

Cicadas rehearse

their one-note

chorus,

and sparrows leave

shallow depressions

beneath the hedge

to mark

their baths of dust.

Disconnected,

we hide and bemoan

the heat,

impoverished time,

our stillborn

dreams.

 

— C.Birde, 8/2/17