Andrea

15

Summer Heat

The heat swivels off the treetops in unforgiving waves
lands and splashes on to the gray cement,
which naïvely takes in what is offered,
as if it were a child, and the object were
a lollipop.

The leaves shrivel and burn; they twist and contract,
trying vainly to be spared from the sun's rays.
The roses, premature, open small and end smaller.
Even weeds shrink away.

Summer is heat, and nothing in between.