A SUMMER AFTERNOON

Heavy as hot wet flannel, every breath…I hate to sit or move againstthis August afternoon.Sticky-damp, clothes cling,a drag against ambition.Birds, lethargic, dull,sing only if they must,fly ghostlike if at allthrough dusty drooping trees.Cicadas ratchet on and on–maddeningly constant;mosquitoes whineor strike unheard, the devils!Roses overblown and bright,relishing this tropic season,exude aromas heavy and too sweet. I …