Midsummer meandering

Summer's armpits fill with hair after the Fourth of July,
the lake looks like it could stand a shave.

The corn and afternoon cumulus seems to be on steroids,
only the Stars play baseball tonight.

The yard is burning up,
the neighbors are sprinkling,
flowers wilt in the heat and wind,
weeds win.

People drown
have accidents on the interstate
pack
bury their mothers
get married
have their daily chemo or radiation
call talk shows in the middle of the night to talk about ice cream
celebrate birthdays
throw away the daily credit card offer
have their houses appraised
talk about the new elementary Principal
listen to African child missionaries
sing of God's greatness
in the mission fields of west central Minnesota
complain about the heat
think about the weekend
drive to the airport to deliver or pick up
sweat
and
unpack.

The goslings look more like geese.
The cicada sings.
The eagle soars.
The hawk terrorizes.
The heron stalks.
The terrier chases the chipmunk.
The martins pack to leave.
The mosquitos drive us indoors.
The deer stand in the meadow at midday like mad dogs and Englishmen

The town is full of strangers.

The red tail planes flying overhead are flying smack dab into bankruptcy, full of frantic people burning up their frequent flier miles first. Minnesota aircraft mechanics will lose their jobs to Central American aircraft mechanics with no second mortgages and a cabin up north.

Smokers are hoarding cigarettes before the health impact fee is imposed.

Scotland Yard knows who did it.

Lance Livestrong is back in yellow.

Time to pre-buy propane for winter, price is up by 20%.

We are running low on charcoal.

These are the days.