I wanted to get so much done,
yet heat and tiredness
find me drowning now.
Clock beats tick monotonously
as a drowsy sunstream
carves deeply in me,
this oh so familiar, languid lethargy.
The flies are bad this year,
yet there is hope here in my tiny garden
where humming bees petal dance silently
in and out of flower heads
dripping with yellowed pollen.
I shall not complain here on this August day
of Nature’s generosity,
for all too soon the skies will darken,
the trees will starkly stand
against the bitter elements of a January freeze.
My feet will, upon this cottage floor,
become purpled with cold and wizened too
if they are as bare then as they are today.
Then, there will be no plumped up toes
with warmed flesh to run over the beloved’s
body in this naked heat……