Hot, Hot, Hot

               Hot, Hot, Hot

Whenever I have naught to say

I write about the weather.

It’s a good old English way

To say whatever’s

Easiest to pass the time,

The personal not being prime.

Yet here I sit, sunny comfy

Admiring the blue of sky,

The marvel of a lake whose look

Can take the breath away:

White, yellow water lily scattered willy-nilly

By some law of nature I will never fathom.

Row- and motorboats parked here and there

Far and near, on shores and little docks ad hoc.

Cirrus clouds are forming

Storming many hundred meters high.

And yet the sky, still blue looks still, yes, tranquil.

But I’ve moved from chair to capture

All in nature so enrapturing these eyes:

The butterflies, the dragonflies, the bees and flies,

Gnats, ants and ticks.

But I digress, for there are ducks to watch, nothing to fix –

(except, perhaps those nasty ticks).

This life as perfect as God made it,

Sun and cloud and shade quite perfect

Though the day is hot as hell.

I welcome every bit of it.

Hot, Hot, Hot 6.9.2018 Circling Round Nature II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Swedish Book;; Arlene Nover Corwin

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