by Linda Cue
There are no
azalea bushes
or cool breezes
moving beneath
the warmth
of the sun.
My windows
are opened
and my door
is unlocked.
Does anyone know?
It’s summer
all year long
now, and the sun
burns even while
sitting beneath trees.
Is it too late?
Even, while I watch
for that first heavy rain
to plant again azaleas
in the loose wet ground.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student