Lassitude
Bone-wet wool swelter of July: The dog lifts lazy eyelids as a fly Careens from pane to pane and teens Lie snoring after noon. The neighbor’s vane Sits idly on its post. Nothing stirs, Sky nor trees, birds nor breeze. The blur Of heat from blacktop hangs in place, A corporeal screen whose trace Erases definition from the field Beyond, where on a stalk a hummer yields: Beak open, seeking nectar flower’s cup Can’t hold. The sun has long been up But even he is blanketed, denied The sight of his own work: summer’s smothered sigh.
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This poem was generated by the author’s human mind with zero AI / LLM involvement. The audio recording is also completely AI-free.
You captured this moment beautifully!
The sun being "denied the sight of his own work: summer's smothered sigh" is a brilliantly succinct and evocative way to sum up this climate. Great stuff :)