The creek disappears,
runs underground to the roots,
up thick, gray trunks of sycamores
to fill limbs and turn leaves
into dark green canopies of shade
over an occasional pothole
of warm water that herons
and coons have already gleaned,
but for the underwater bugs.

Sycamores are greedy,
take all the water they can,
believe in unlimited growth
they can’t support, lose limbs
with the crack of a rifle shot:
                    leave wilting proof
                    of gravity
                    upon fences
                    along the road
                    over and over again.
They never learn.

July is sweltering,
air heavy as days bake
into still landscapes.
Everyone is up and out
stalking one another
at the first hint of light.
And come the gloaming,
rabbits run from shade to shade,
the bleached-blond ground
waves with roadrunners herding
mom and pop coveys
of quail on wheels
from cover to water
with serious tittering.

Coyotes come close
to the house in the dark,
bait the dogs to bark
until the lights come on
to dress for work—
or confess on paper
before the brain
stews like a tomato
in July outside.

One response to “JULY OUTSIDE

  1. Pingback: ‘Sycamores are greedy…’ | drycrikjournal

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.