The Frustration of a Brick

We had a few inches of wet snowfall in my area recently and, during the storm, I took my dog out. For some reason, he found a section of brick lying near the house and decided that it would make a fun toy. Yes, he’s weird like that, lol. Anyway, the snow started sticking to the brick as he moved it along the ground with his feet. The thickening snow on the surface made it hard for him to pick up, so he tried to get the snow off by rolling it. Unfortunately, his doggie brain couldn’t process the fact that pushing it, it only added to the amount of snow sticking to the brick. In a very short time, it was encased in a snowy cube about half a foot across and kept growing as he managed to push it down a small hill. Running down to catch up with it, he started pawing at it trying to get the offending snow off and then he resorted to barking at it frustratingly. By this point, I was laughing so hard I could barely stand up, and he looked at me with this expression of, “Mom, it’s not funny!” I was finally able to get him to come inside, but the next day when we went out, he went right back to that brick and continued to try to play with it again. I gotta hand it to him, he’s a determined little guy.

The Coming of Fall

Now the seasons are running down

Cooler weather has come to town.

Soon the trees will be colored brightly

And windows will be opened nightly.

To let the cold air of fall inside

And under blankets and quilts, we’ll hide.

Then comes the night when once a year

Children dress to cause terror and fear

They parade around the neighborhoods

To collect all sorts of goody-goods.

They mingle with other witches and monsters

There’s no way to tell the real from imposters.

Then when they are all tucked in tight

And their dreams are filled of creepy delights

Do the goblins and witches fly away home

To wait another twelve months to roam.

Outside Heat

Every living species is invested
In the same effort
To stay cool.
Standing outside in the
Heavy, heated air
It is so quiet.
The loose folds
Of my blouse
Billow in the weakly
cooling breeze.
The rest sticks to the
Surface of my body.
I retreat to the cool
Darkness of my home
And try to regain my
Ability to breathe
Which the oppressiveness
Of the open air has
Stolen from me.