A heat so profound that horses
were knocked back, sheltering
all day in small shade, relief for
the sparse pasture. The pond
clatters with three Canada goose
families, four Great White
Heron, too many ducklings
to count, while the pond shrinks
by the day. Its edges exposed,
its base becomes beach as the
water recedes, the fishy odor
of marsh plants drying wafts
over the prairie; an oasis fading
to a driveway mud-puddle.
Purple-gray clouds and thunder
give small rains, passing quickly,
leaving the ground thirsty, the
prairie grass gone to yellow. And
the constant haze of smoke, fires
to the west. The joy of welcoming
birds is shallow, knowing they did
not will to come here, so much
as escape a thing even drier and
colder, but also headed this way.
At least you still have water in your pond….
Yup, lucky us, I know lots have it worse.
At least you still have water in your pond….
I am so sorry. I hope for relief soon. On the east coast, we have more rain than we need. I wish we could send some your way.
Upside down, isn’t it. Don’t grow webs, Jean!
She is often harsh isn’t she. We are lush and green. Hot, humid, rainy. And Ohhh the BUGS! =-o
Bugs are the thing, aren’t they?
She is often harsh isn’t she. We are lush and green. Hot, humid, rainy. And Ohhh the BUGS! =-o
Bugs are the thing, aren’t they?