Early morning is warm in an orange blush
without breath from a cool moonlit breeze.
My exhalation is the only suggestion of air
in a room with open windows, still curtains.
Summer trees – still life water color greens
on a hazy blue field of pastel blurs
in two empty and emotionless dimensions.

The beginning of heat, organized by degrees
as blocks of Fahrenheit – Celsiun colonnades –
mass across the landscape in radiant ripples,
floating mirage waves, one after another
distending to each wilted and pale horizon,
piling up in a haze, distant wildfires ablaze,
its onslaught a precision incursion into desire.

I can long for the sweet breath of spring
the cool falling of autumn into its season
even the sharp piercing of winter’s night
to little avail in this advancing heat –
summer’s gift to my waiting life.
I shall learn from its surrounding presence
to still, breathe, water my life’s pathways.

Portland, Oregon – August 3, 2017