Thursday, October 6, 2011

Dog Days - June 2011


The summer swelters are here.
Days that make me want to burrow
deep into the earth, praying hard
for the wet blessing of a rain drop.

Here in the South, there's a certain pace to things - or perhaps more succinctly, a certain lack of pace - when the heat arrives. Ambition melts like a chocolate bar left on the truck's dashboard and time lies suspended, shimmering like the watery mirage on distant blacktop. Life sits on the porch and pants.

Dog days.


Trees droop their shoulders,
leaves limp as fingers dangling
without purpose

T-Bone's response to this thermal oppression is to drop a float tube into the Eno and to go where the river takes him. The float embraces the pace of southern summer living and cools the dogs in the slow-flowing water and blessed riverbank shade. A fly rod, of course, is mandatory. I happily joined him.

Dog days.


Nothing sings
Nothing moves
but the dragonflies gliding
through the thick warm soup
that once was air.

Redbreast sunfish, bluegill, greenies, Roanoke and largemouth bass - all as lazy as we were. T-Bone's invitation read "Be at my place by 9:00am. I have found crack-of-dawn fishing on the Eno unfruitful." Fine by me. Yes, the sleep-in fish were lazy, but not completely unwilling, and we caught our share as we floated, portaged, and waded with our tubes tethered to our belts like puppies on a leash.

Dog days.


Hard to breathe.
Hard to care.
Caught in the doldrums,
I take baby breaths,
and dream of the quiet chatter of sleet
as it hits a tin roof.

Six hours on the river went by in a summer haze. Two miles of cool green ribbon. An afternoon of relief. Floating under the overhanging branches, feet deep in the languid flow, we could almost forget that summer was hard upon us. Almost.

Dog days.




Note: The italicized verse interleaved above is not mine. It was written by my good friend Catherine who protests vehemently that she is not a poet. It seems perfectly clear that she is mistaken.


Rerun Note: This is my most recent favorite and the final rerun post. I hesitated to re-publish it as it's been barely three months since it first appeared, but it is the kind of post I aspire to, inspired by some neat images and Cathryn's lovely verse. How could I leave it out?

I hope that you have enjoyed the reruns and that you found something new - either a post you had not seen originally or a new insight into one you had - somewhere along the way. I've certainly had fun re-visitinging them.

Monday, our new home...

1 comment:

Cofisher said...

Catherine is a poet as are you Mike. Enjoyed your reruns a lot.