Heavy Weather

Like the darling buds of May, the splendid days

Roughly chased by heat, hanging heavy like a sigh

And the blessed dragonflies dodge and drift

And shift upon the last small cloud clear sky.

No warning call or calendar or schedule

In its own clear determined choosing

The weighted weather pushes in

Above our plaintive cries and ill thought refusing.

Weighted like a folded sheet, this heavy heat will heist

Our fresh and golden ways

And we must acquiesce as weather says “Oh yes”

And we sit quiet and count the days.

 

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