August Afternoon Poem by B. V. Dahlen

The yard reposes,
weighty and lethargic,
in the torrid afternoon.

Iridescent dragonflies
dance on the placid air
over a pool
of turquoise ribbons.

Humidity heavy on their petals,
the flowers droop and
surrender in a stupor.

A soaring gull seeks a cooler current
and rises from view.

Cicadas drone, sprinklers whoosh
and blades revolve with a racket
that the heat seems
to distance,
like a shimmering mirage.

The listless scents
of wilted flowers, damp towels
and sun screen, prowl quietly
like chastised pets.

Rolling thunder gathers
the smudge of distant clouds
towards me,
pledging relief,
and I swelter and sweat,
waiting for the succor
of the promised shower.