Friday, September 1, 2023

Texas Summer


By John I. Blair

In outer space, we're told,
The cold is absolute.

Not in this place,
Not in the Texas summertime
When centenary temperatures loom.

When I was young
In summer heat I learned well
To go from shade to shade,
And never fast, but made a pace
Like that of lava creeping to the sea,
There to leap at last into the cooling deep,
Just as I have yearned to plunge
Into refrigerated rooms.

If those who wrote the Gospels
Lived in a climate like the one I know
It was no stretch for them to think of hell.

©2003 John I. Blair

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