My auto-immune system does not relish heat, and I fall limply to couch or bed each afternoon in peril of not rising again in time to make dinner, pick kids up from camp, make some sense of the ravished house. Here's a brief ode to this roasting period of the summer, when air conditioners heave in exhaustion, kids flee the burning pavement pool-side, and shade is a gift from the gods.
Lavender, Streetside
Forks of lavender tine the air,
Spearing bees as those buzzers
Dive-bomb the purple pollen.
Flowery limbs season heated gases
Exhaled by asphalt,
Secreting peace as they rise sky-ward.
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