A Indiana Summer Night Poem by Michael Stevens

The air is stifling, hot Like when an oven door opens and the gust of wind like something from the Saharan Desert blisteringly embraces your face like the fingers of a lover on your cheek.

With crickets that take up their violins in the evening to dull the pain that heat inflicts on man and beast alike, Singing and chirping and dancing with the fireflies that provide the lighting for the party,

Off in the distance, heat lightning flashes, a war in the sky, The Angel Michael and his armies of the Light facing Lucifer's Fallen. Great flashes arching across the sky, yet no sound reporting to my ears,

The Indiana sun sinks behind the horizon, setting the whole of the sky on fire. Clouds catching as if the wildfire was spread by the northerly winds. Deep shades of orange and violet and red and pink, the sun slowly sinks with a sort of determination that even the most ambitious men covet.


Its an Indiana summer night, just like all the others. The same as yesterdays, the same as last years. An Indiana summer like that ever came and is and will ever be for the rest of time. And yet, its something so beautiful that you cant just leave it behind.This Indiana Summer Night.