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Wilyem Clark
07-24-2016, 01:22 PM
Everything burns in summertime:
Loaves in artisanal ovens blacken,
Skin on road repairmen blister,
Engines fail, rails buckle,
Transformers burst, poolsiders swelter;
Tempers top the thermal charts.
It's hard to tell—is that the smell
Of a charbroiled steak or a building on fire?
The sky is the serest sort of blue,
Both full of H-too lovely-Oh,
And as dry as a crater on a Mars-lit moon.
A lassitude pervades every being:
Birds opt to walk instead of fly
(For the sun can melt one's wings, you know),
Squirrels crawl, rabbits hold their ground;
The halest of our marathoners
Puff and pant at the least exertion.
O where are yesterwinter's snows?
They fed a lush spring, but nothing more,
And the wind serves only to usher in
Another wave of abominable heat.

mahmod qabaga
07-24-2016, 01:47 PM
it is heat that make changing in color some time and make fruit sweet
while the melting an d boiling point be closer and closer

I read a beautiful poem

tailor STATELY
07-25-2016, 04:35 PM
Beautiful indeed.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY