Staring at my grandfather, holding my tongue; I need to drink in this hot July. I need to stop and taste each drop of sweat. I need to feel my skin burn crisp in the hot-high sun. I need the July-burning wind, raging maple’s leaves upturned betraying the coming storm. It’s ninety-six degrees at sunrise, it’ll be hundred and four by noon.
From The Berry Pickers...
From The Berry Pickers...
From The Berry Pickers...
Staring at my grandfather, holding my tongue; I need to drink in this hot July. I need to stop and taste each drop of sweat. I need to feel my skin burn crisp in the hot-high sun. I need the July-burning wind, raging maple’s leaves upturned betraying the coming storm. It’s ninety-six degrees at sunrise, it’ll be hundred and four by noon.