In hot summer heat in
August and May salty beads of water gathered in play on hot heated bodies to
vanish away. Happened so fast some just gathered and pooled then took crooked
rides to unknown places marking their lives by salty wet traces. Despite the
sweat that cools in cool breezes it couldn’t cool heat that August heat teases.
The heat that played played all day and wouldn’t cool down til’ August loved
May.
Darryl Z. Oates
I really like this Darryl. Is the poem yours? This would make a great bookcover.
ReplyDeleteThanks Frank much appreciated, Yes I wrote it. I write from time to time. Made it to Laurie's Monday. Hope your staying creative. Hope to see you soon.
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