Unkempt if you will

mazy with grass seed and insects.

By which you read Summer.

A season warm and static. Nothing

surely can happen beyond the buzz

of the bees in the salvia. Stay here, lie

on the lawn the whole day

until its light and heat dissolve into night

until at last we must seek shelter.

Forget about the dog, unpredictable

on the boundary, the strange look

she gets in her eyes as she lunges,

hurls her longing and discontent

repeatedly against the fence.