In these sleepy, sun-soaked days, life begins to slumber
and wither.
Bodies seek comfort in each other
Lives once bold and hungry for sex and song, promise and power
that too soon grew fat and lazy, begin to dream again.
Small, sleepy dreams sized to fit in their shriveled forms.
They sleep on porches, resting their heavy heads on each other's knees
like weary, obedient dogs.
Their limp hair intertwines like the gnarled fingers of ancient lovers
who have all but become one.
In these sleepy, sun-soaked dog days when life begins to slumber
The clock ticks
the air too heavy for sound to travel far
the young gather to sit amidst the old and bear witness.
Dry lips croak unsaid sentiments
These are the quiet days
Of tender blessings
When time and touch
are dreams enough.
Let these dog-tired forms find comfort in each other.
Let parched lips brush the hallowed cheeks of spent lovers.
Let the sun's hot, sweet breath
make them plump again.
Rekindled desire spooning with grace.
