Summer Dreams

While cicadas sing Summer Song,

in the mesquite dappled 110 degree shade;

overheated spiders leave webs unfinished.

Even the ants retreat from suns oppression.

Earth's hot, heavy breath stirs your hair,

dries the sweat on your brow,

but does not cool.

Still, the heat grows,

---surrounds you, overtakes you;

invades even your mind.

Haunts your sleep.

Too hot for erotic dreams,

dreams become fantasies of writhing,

rolling, dancing, spinning,

alone in wonderful, heavenly,

hauntingly, blissfully cool,

. . . snow . . .