Heat

The sky is a hot air balloon,
blue;
the sidewalks stick to the
streets, and
the rivers trickle with sweat.
The mountains have fallen to
stupor, and
the ants remain underground.
The clouds are dehydrated and
thirsty; the
crows are sunburnt
from flying into horizons
flaming
red.

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published online and in print (including in Dissident Voice). He is the author of eight published full-length poetry collections -- mot recently BLACK SUMMER, 2021, Spartan Press. He lives in Vermont (USA). Read other articles by Wayne F..