Any July Evening
Reading Time: < 1 minute
A piston-engined plane goes past Beneath a dappled summer sky. It's hot And humid here below, July outside Of Omaha. The matrons navigate The road nearby inside their armored Cars. I wait. I'm told that it will rain, Those dappled clouds predicted to Coagulate and bring us thunder, hail, And wind, all sorts of chaos. I confess I'm skeptical. I run my drink across my Forehead, hoping to relieve the heat Before I stumble off to bed, imagining How it would be to be upon that plane. © Lawrence Beck 2023
Thoughtful and wonderful poem.
You can certainly see your writing skills in your work. All the time go after your heart.
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