Summer's smack
by Kitty Boots
straight-line winds whip the tendrils of gourds clinging
to the smokehouse,
zinnias defer and later give up, bowing with heavy heads
a staccato plop on a hydrangea leaf
they dance
water runs off the roof in a metal bucket
clouds clot the horizon all day, whispers of thunder,
listen
rescue the laundry from an additional rinse, they're dry
gather jeans and T-shirts by the armful
and still stop to smell them
one more walk around the gardens, edged just today,
crabgrass, sneaky, luxuriant, finds it's place
sometimes an asset, holding moisture in the ground, but greedy
a tiny jewel of a tree frog on every alocasia leaf,
a crack of thunder that shakes the house
ozone, a freshening, as the hair stands up on my arms
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Author's Note
Frequent afternoon thunderstorms in my part of the country.
Other stories by Kitty Boots
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Nice poem. Il like the sound of rain.
Thank you, Erika, I like the sound and the smell!
Brings that little oasis alive.
Excellent capture.
A Summer to remember. And the tree frog jewels!*
"one more walk around the gardens" Yes.*
Thank you, Gary, Tim and Beate!
This is just perfect, so well done, just the right amount of everything.
"Rescue the laundry from an additional rinse" - nice detail *
Thank you, Foster!
*, Kitty. Here you’ve remarkably gathered the sights, sounds, scents and textures of late summer afternoon thunderstorms.