dog days

the cling
of summer rain,
of wet skies,
the heat
and drip
of it all making
us heavy.
making us sigh,
making us long for
the cold drink
the cool
tide to rise
and blanket our
feet. summer
is fine,
as is the last of
its warm rays,
its wine,
but fall
is delirious and
delightful
in its wake.