As we enter the last week of September and - one hopes - the temperatures begin to moderate from the beastly heat wave of the dwindling summer, this poem by George Bilgere seems appropriate to the day ...
Scorcher
by George Bilgere
In the summer twilight,
a couple of hours after dinner,
we like to take a walk.
The birds have turned in.
The air has finally cooled,
but the crickets and katydids
are getting so worked up
that the lightning bugs catch fire
a few feet above the lawn,
just where we left them
when we were kids.
Now and then
we pass another couple
from one of the green, old,
more or less identical
streets of our neighborhood
as they move through the atmosphere,
mystical and obscure,
their voices softly registering
the news of the summer.
Good evening,
we say to each other.
Lovely night, isn't it.
What a scorcher, we say
with gratitude and affection
for this shared mystery
of being human
on this dark little planet,
on one of the slender,
gracefully swirling arms
of one of the smaller galaxies.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend as we ride this dark little planet on one of the slender, gracefully swirling arms of one of the smaller galaxies. More thoughts later.
Bilbo
