Prairie Dream

Summer feels heavy now,
with thoughts muddled by headache
caught in a cloud where the rain falls
in sheets, sheets, and more sheets,
tied to the clothesline
where the wind whips them clean,
but the air is too hot, still, and sticky
to be this kind of prairie dream,
so instead it’s the concrete,
and the noise of the city after the rain,
and the sound of the tires the cars make,
all rushing, rushing, in such a hurry
to throw behind them Summer,
now, as heavy as Sunflowers
who have bent their faces towards
the ground – with the weight of seeds.

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2 thoughts on “Prairie Dream

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