The Searing Wind

The wind hurtles scorchingly
through the heat-withered
landscape, no relief in its movement
to be had. The sun, unrestrained
by clouds, lording it over a vast
sky of relentless blue baking
all that it illuminates below.
Foliage turns ashen green in
wilt under the full glare of the
afternoon, turning prematurely
wizened, defoliating and drifting
to the forest floor, a distress of
the baking atmosphere. Goldfinches
flit silently through conifers
stoically enduring what they cannot
influence as the small mammals
of the woodland haven hide
conserving energy in instinctive
survival reaction to nature's
random existential challenges.