Pink Heated Haze

Temperatures reach,
breach the high.
Uncharacteristically
hot, unused to how
the heat permeates.

High pitched hum of
the cicadas, staccato
chirps of crickets,
vary in speed and pitch.

Witches hair clings to
seafoam covered
branches, lichen
crawls up and
around, every
crevice filled with
crackling.

Dehydrated paths
a sick, grayish
shade of brown.
Shrunken, cracked,
thirsty.
Mud pits shriveled
to a deathly pallor.

Grass bends, heavy
from unpicked seed
that wriggle through
laces, pierce skin.

Flattened in the shade,
deers’ only respite
from grueling
afternoon heat.

Water levels
lowered, stagnant
green embraces
shoreline stone.
Crusted river rock,
algae dried long ago,
covered in crunch.

Smokey pink haze
blankets the horizon,
peaks shrouded,
suffocating.

Even the birds
don’t sing.

 

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