Respite

In the wilting heat

the songs that come to me

are ones I’ve sung before

or heard so often forty years ago

that all the notes are etched deep in my mind

The same with words, with poems,

as lines I’ve read and loved come back to me,

along with ones I’ve written,

and the only way to find new words

is to seek shade, and the space it brings,

for leaves, and lines,

to hold themselves full.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 5, 2019