The Dog Days of Summer

The delta breeze chimes

in the pallid air,
almost making music from the willing sunflowers.

Almost slipping
beneath the double pane glass
of my inconsiderate mood.

It moves the tall grass
beside a warm pond where fish
ignore ripples
with their lethargic large mouths closed.

In this room of bones and chairs
an airplane and refrigerator
hum along as the dog snores
in her old comforting warmth,
as a trickle of thought
from the corrugated roof of my mind,
weeps.