Poem for Summer

         On Our First Hot Day


I lean over a terra cotta dish of limp daisies,

my gray sweat-shirted arm, the trunk

of an elephant that ends in a nozzle

I point at the waiting white-petaled heads.


Lumbering along in my loose yard shoes

to our monkey grass encircled annual beds,

my dusty blue cotton bathrobe drags

across the morning grass.


I point my hose at the thirsty plants,

twist to widen the rope of water

into a spray of cool mist that coats banks

of marigolds set beneath an arc of parrot colors.


All around me, the jungle of summer

has begun to swell under the sun’s encouragement.

White heat awakens every seed and blossom,

and elephant ears sway to listen for the call


of water splashing as each mouth opens

in thirsty invitation. And the sleepy god

who offers up these showers? Full of gratitude,

I spray an arc above us to conjure a rainbow.


               Anne McCrady


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