The Heat of Summer

When the sun
Bears down on the earth
To bring the bustle and noise of the world
To slow motion and to rest
It is the lazy
Tsch, tsch, of the tall sprinklers
At work in the hay fields
That speak to me of summer and the
Oppressive heat where the lone
Loud chorus of grasshoppers sing intently
In the tall grass and sweet smelling
Alfalfa soon to be mowed and
Left lying in hillside sun 
To dry in rows, then haystacks
Stored in the barn's loft
For the winter's feed.

In irony, I, who was born
On one of the hottest of summer days
Was usually reduced
To a blubbering  puddle of tears
Unable to bear the heat that usually
Marked my passing years in time.
In the aftermath of my meltdowns
The acacia spread its
Branches in kindness
To shade me from the sweltering rays
Where I could sit and listen
To the sounds of summer's song.

Or sometimes on the covered front porch
I would gently swing in the little hammock
Watching the late afternoon sun
Dance in the Virginia creeper leaves
And  then we would be friends again
The sun and I.