The Day That Wasn't Hot



The moon was a drop of white on a wet blue canvas, in yesterday’s evening sky. Briefly catch the mackerel cloud. Then the sun dips through its red finale, fixes our attention utterly.
Dream, all night, of living in a jungle.
Woken by Boy, waving a phone. Girl forgot to text me her shift dates, so I’m supposed to be over with Baby and not hiding from the heat in my bamboo hut. A swift time triage- swig coffee now, wash face later.
It’s cloud forest humid, but without heat. The day passes, hazy as my tired head. The birds sing, the foliage is spring swollen. I remember in the jungle I didn’t have a car but things are barely less simple here.
Baby laughs at Dog spitting out a stone.
Mr puts the espresso pot on the stove.
With no heat to hide from, I stand outside, hearing the song of the canopy. 


Comments

Teresa Cypher said…
Beautiful! You know...it kind of put me to mind of haiku :-) "...the song of the canopy." :-)
Suze said…
Wash face with coffee?
MOV said…
lovely writing! ahhhh. I feel like I am there.

best,
MOV
Lynn Proctor said…
you made me feel the warm but not too warm coastal breezes, where my family loves to visit--lovely post
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you my lovelies! Liking the coffee wash, that's going to give me a healthy glow :-)

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