Hot calm hangs over the city.
People move slowly and speak low:
Gonna be a scorcher today.
I heard, a hundred and four...
Sweltering noon
a furnace breeze fans the parking lot.
I swear you could fry an egg.
Even the bees buzz slower.
Evening and the heat breaks.
Breeze from the west brings cool--
a ghost of a ghost of the distant ocean
not damp, but whispering of damp.
The sun grins at the west window:
Just wait till tomorrow.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Heat Wave
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