With the current heat wave on, it seemed like a good day to share this poem.
Hot day like a trumpet blast
of melodic riffs that rise but
never quite fall;
each note finally dripping into
a sweat drop
going flip flop on
the pavement.
Overheated notes trying to
keep the jazz afloat
fingers that won’t stop
pushing the buttons
in the search for cool.
Calling out for the cool change
seeking the release from the water key
brass melt away
hot day.
Trumpet make the people
rain dance
pump the pavement
with their call for cool.
(c) June Perkins
Gumboootspearlz 