"It's the humidity"

a poem
written Saturday evening

"It's the Humidity"

The warm wet
blanket of a
summer evening,
Sound-checking
locusts:
"(my mother would say, "They're not really locusts [the neighbor girl's term] -- they're cicadas.")
Their clattering
chorus --
Recollections of
childhood -- Summers
-- hitting the ball
running
a fire outside
paper plates
a marshmallow
On the pointed end of a stick
Whittled by Dad,
some by me,
supervised &
directed,
The Cat with
her own agenda,
Weaving in from the tall grass,
Satisfied with her perimeter-check,

Intent on returning
to the area
where her humans
are gathered.

Relatives & friends,
Grown-up talk,
outdoor chairs --
light metal;
Space exploration,
Nixon, war,
protests,
today's society,
juicy hamburgers,
carrots & celery --
cool on a plate.

Later --
in the dark, the blink -- ON,
off, On
of fireflies
("lightning bugs")
floating
mysterious
and far-flung
in the velvet black.

-30-