The morning sticky
moisture coming,
rising on my brow
my forehead,
almost without exertion
calling for the tissue
to mop up the water
Walking through the thick air
the girls heading to school
the cool of the water bottle
cold in my hand
No air moving
the eager trees waiting
maples lush green already
moving from chartreuse, to kelly, to darker green
the rain not yet coming.
Oh, I just felt a breeze
May 3, 2010
Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010. Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage.
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