top forty

the temperature is perfect
at two hours past midnight
aware of the change that is at hand
i savor this sweet transient bliss

await the imminent dawning
when the terminator of light
sweeps over the arid land
this taste too swiftly will i miss

only one week of June has passed
and already the familiar sight
when quicksilver flows like quicksand
surprising the forgetful or remiss

today the threshold shall be breached
i agreed to this expected plight
when i joined this desert band
the delightful sting of sun’s pure kiss

the principled principal of summer
conferring upon us forty degrees
one hundred four by the old score
the four month antiwinter begins

until the cooling equinox
ushers in october’s breeze
carry your essential shade
bring your oven mitts if you please

at two hours past midnight
the temperature is perfect
july and august won’t cool off
i savor this sweet transient bliss

always seeking shade
every tree an umbrella
each eve a refuge
from the photonic deluge

the doves roost early
and nest beneath the eves
wrens hidden amongst the leaves
as inky crows complain

i savor this season
that feels like treason
when the schedules shift
and the heat is swift

they say once bitten
one will be smitten
as i don my summer mittens
i recall what once was written

for when i had first climbed
the back of this camel reclined
of youthful years it did remind
for this stinging heat i had pined

though for these flames i was not designed
to this desert clime consigned
where corn cotton and copper are mined
here i find my state of mind

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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