furnace roar

First week in September:

Sat in dappled sunlight
under the young black walnut
close enough to the water
to hear wavelets burping
discreetly at the dogwood roots.

A few determined yellow jackets
tried to steal a sip of my beer
oblivious to the cicada concert
soaring in the sundrenched woods
and some ducks bobbed slowly by.

Next day in a flurry
moved the essentials
back to level floors
and easy water
by banks of pavement.

Next morning I shivered
as I heard the furnace roar.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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