summer’s cooked (haiku tercets)
summer receding
the dragonflies flit away
from your outstretched hands
the crows are louder
their murders more numerous
they blacken the sky
broiling and basting
we wilt under the heatdome
summer’s cooked away
What I’m Reading:
“While somewhere outside her window,
the crooked pine tree
hatches her an anvil”
— Therese Estacion / “EF I”
thee istsfor manity reader 