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- by Linn Barnes

-Linn Barnes

Tumbling from the 
clouds into 97

degrees one drop 
of rain splattered

the fading green 
and vanished in

less than a flash
while the fetid air 

shimmies in the 
unholy hostility of 

july’s vengeance upon
the blurred memory of

spring when frost 
caught the early garden

out of sorts and
gave us a drenching

of green and ice 
we will not forget

and tomorrow i’m told
will be worse

as we grind
higher into the 90s

with no rain in sight
and stillness in the

now savage air where 
even the storms pass by

teasing the heat
in the late morning 

without a spark
or a thunder clap

to lighten the heart
of the weary watcher