Summer's Second Language

Thick still air, 
cannot compete 
with the breeze.  

Posturing trees, 
consider their 
guard to be down.  

Blue-gray clouds 
erase the shine 
from the sun.  

The rain falls, 
driving back 
the mercury.  
A puddle forms, 
looking foreign 
on the sidewalk.  

Until stomping 
solidly upon it, 
ankles remember.     

....this was a very nearly published piece in a competition for a week at a writer's retreat.  it was submitted in a grouping of summer-y/nature-y poems all of which made it past three cuts with the editors.  the fourth, deciding cut, however, went to someone else.   all arrived back home, pages a bit worse for wear, with tally marks in the upper righthand margins.  dunno ... sometimes "worse for wear" is just as nice as winning.  i only post this today because it finally rained here after sooooooooooooo long.  i happened to be out running errands when the storm hit and it was interesting to watch everyone react to it.