The air is a hot
still blanket.
It fills my lungs
with the opium
of summer.
I drift.
Bird song is a
clamor
I can’t ignore.
I breathe it in
with the warm air
and drift.
Closing my eyes
I inhale verdant
and exhale pain.
Liquid bones
don’t groan
as they greet
one another.
They float
in that same
felted heat
where
I drift.
This is a one shot Wednesday poem. Go here to check out other poets.
well you obviously have the same weather we have had the last couple days...breathing burns...and so do my shoulders...will be keeping my shirt on in the coming days...
ReplyDeleteLovely!
ReplyDeleteIt'll be so worth getting that hip fixed!
ReplyDeleteYour poem was, well, beautiful and haunting.
Dear The Bug,
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me so much not just of pain, but the euphoria when pain goes away.
Very Imagistic and sensual. I think Ezra Pound would be proud.
Thanks for sharing!
Ann T.
Oh, I wish! Beautifully done.
ReplyDeletegreat pome
ReplyDeleteOooh, very evocative!
ReplyDeleteYou have beautiful language and imagery in this poem, Dana. Well done.
ReplyDeleteYou are so ready for that hip surgery! The mugginess here has been awful too. Feels like August! Ick!
ReplyDeleteyou make it sound like nature and sunshine is your drug of choice ...love it thank you
ReplyDeleteYes the heat is anything but sweet
ReplyDeleteAnd your write about it was really neat
The weather can cause grief
Or it can make you content as you watch a falling leaf
Enjoyed the read
Really nice indeed
I found myself drifting along with you....
ReplyDeleteI do enjoy warm weather!
i could relate in too many ways. . . scary :-) nice read.
ReplyDeleteand so it begins.
ReplyDeletethe heat and humidity have arrived early this year but my ferns are in heaven.
Those hot steamy summer-like days of spring sure takes the breathe out of you...nice write.
ReplyDelete