into the summer

three storms, and another season
on their curtails, seizing and rattling.
in part devil beating his wife,
in part violent overtaking
of an ordinary moment:
arriving within dusty blue clouds,
with lighting so very near the cars
driving to their destinations.

decaying, dehydrated groundcover
is at once saturated to the point
of a small flood, and curious
earthworms are tossed
onto the roads, writhing.
sizzling asphalt, which
bare feet should not touch,
steams itself when the rains
have passed on.
so it is that such a gracious
month should bow and exit,
no longer struggling to
thwart the heady air.