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Hot Evening, After The Beach





At midnight still butter pools in its dish.
Dog rouses for a drink, pads back towards her bed, lies on the floor, sighs defeat.
Ice chinks in nettle beer. The clouds have swallowed a full moon, and nothing cools in digestion.
We lie like butter in our salt puddles, dream of emerging, evolved.
For now, like Dog, we surrender.
Pad, pad, slowly to our beds.
Sand is welded to our soles. Close eyes, recall that push, that cooling incoming tide.
Dog twitches in her sleep. Mr hums a snore.
There’s no sleep here for me.
Downstairs, where the windows are left open, a freed moon shines.




Comments

Susan Flett Swiderski said…
Your words paint a vivid picture. I've experienced a lot of hot nights just like that. With the high temperatures we've had this summer, all I can say is, "Thank God for air conditioning!"
22 July 2016 at 01:40
Geo. said…
Lisa, on 1st reading I thought this poem beautiful. On 5th reading, I think it is stunningly beautiful. There is a calm, quiet joy in it that does not disperse. Brava. Brava.
22 July 2016 at 04:22
Lisa Southard said…
Envy your air con capabilities!
22 July 2016 at 22:09
Lisa Southard said…
Undispersible joy is my favourite kind! Thank you Geo. :-)
22 July 2016 at 22:11
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