The Papers Say the Heat is Here to Stay

The papers say the heat is here to stay

At night, the moon, a perfect sphere of red

Hanged over the dense wall of Cedars

in the back yard, as if too tired to rise.

At dawn the burning sky gave way to merciless sun,

By noon the flattened shadows left no place to hide

 under the old oak tree, in the front yard.

The heat, a fire- breathing dragon,

 loomed over our door- steps,

hammered our windows and doors.

 We lay stretched on our beds inside,

Measuring each breath so not to exert,

Staying still, listening to every gasp,

hanging on to every whiff of wind,

waiting for an enchanted hero.

 But in the evening the moon ascended red as blood,

And the papers said the heat is here to stay,