After early rounds, we retreat, you and I,
to outside shade as the sun bakes
the earth white, drink hot breaths
of monsoonal air as finches pant on the beam—
and then again to the inside of the house
until the canyon’s shadow is complete.
We retreat, you and I, from the outside
world of wars and treachery, the frenzied
feeding of a fire of fears out there—
an eternal flame to keep from being
afraid of the dark—an instant enlightenment
designed for growth and commerce.
We retreat, you and I, knowing seasons
change—and we endure the heat reaching
into the fuzzy edges of our delirium
watering cattle and garden. We retreat
to one another and wait for the fire
to burn itself out—start over again.
drycrikjournal 
I like how you tie the passing of season with the passing of life in general and also how you describe the heat of the California valley during the summer. And love, too.
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Thank you, Evelyne. It pleases me that you like it.
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