It was one of those dog days of summer
but for the fact that this was only a day
in late spring leaping ahead of itself
in a stultifying, smothering overheated
oppression that baked the forest floor
a barely discernible breeze moving
foliage in a sultry dance of heat-drenched
movement where even the vibrant green
of the forest screen seemed muted by a
lassitude of sombre reflection. There was
no reflection in the forest stream as
striated clouds gathered obscuring the sun
gaining little benefit in reducing the heat
smelting effect of the day. A sudden burst
of energy as the giant wings of an unseen
great blue heron spread wide, lifting the bird
from the water into an atmospheric aura as fully
liquid as the stream to soar over the forest
canopy in search of respite, to escape the
torpor enveloping the exhausted forest.
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