Sun and Summer Heat

It’s morning, bright sun streaming in my window.
The dry earth bleeds for rain.
Sunday morning, and the last dregs
of a former life pass through sheaths of foil.
It is June, it is summer, it is quiet.
Sitting here I am listening to Jim Morrison
recite poetry back in March 1969.
I used to live for summer days
On my bicycle, riding into town
to buy weed and Canadian beer.
Stay out until they turned the sprinklers
on on the Diag, every night an adventure.
Now, summer is locked in battle between
the sun and the moon, heat seeps into my room,
The burning sun streams through my window.

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