The weekend cowboy’s
Pressing business out of town
Left her eating dust.


My weatherman is
An honorable liar.
He promised me rain.


The modern Mrs.
Doesn’t believe in summer–
No bikinis here.


The bees are hungry.
There are few blossoms in drought
And I crave honey.


The summer cooked me–
A smooth, broiled tomato.
Eat me if you will.


Nocturnal living:
Celestial pranks abound,
But you miss the light.