Heatwave

Thank God, the Sun finally fell,
And my grass is all hay, as far as I can tell.
And, she has remarried, well done, well-played;
While I return to my room and its old bed, unmade.

How to escape these grayer ill-jointed days
As we reap the errors of our less-traveled stupid ways—
Find a job, see the doctors, count to ten.
You are right, you’ll never touch her again.

Mercury pauses up past one hundred and two;
Horrible news arrived from the Audubon Zoo;
A jaguar slipped her man-made enclosure;
Happily-ever-after looks very far from sure.

This Heatwave is here for another fortnight.
Wear your sunscreen, hold onto fantasies tight.
Pay the right bills, sell the rest of the stock.
O to have mystick time like from Ashland’s clock.

Weather well, all ye Christians, thru this Austin heatwave.
Gather fresh chrysanthemums for this Land of the Brave.

About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on July 18, 2018, in Poem and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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