Feeling the Heat

Cicadas screech the sound of summer,
signalling a long, hot day ahead.
Shall I find some shade?
Know I’ll find a good book.
Or …
better still –
write some poetry.

How I love to lounge in nature’s shade,
under weeping willow's sweeping loft.
Shall I lie and dream?
I’d surely fall asleep.
But …
better still –
write some poetry.

The songsters’ chorus joins cicadas.’
All wonder how long I’ll play squatter.
Shall I defy them,
and leave them to their peace?
No …
better still –
write some poetry.

Too soon, noon’s heat rays find and stab me.
Stingrays ampullae of Lorenzini –
a million sensors
sensing my discomfort.
So …
better not –
write some poetry.
© Jan 25