The first part of her poem (not featured here) describes the humidity of Southern summers you can see in some of those pictures I posted from Tennessee.
Please go to Bless Our Hearts and read her July 14 poem. You'll be glad you did. Here is a bit of it. See what I mean?
This morning I walked down to the creek
The No Trespassing Sign has disappeared which was sign enough for me to go
Down that path and into the woods where I always think
They'd never find me if I disappeared here by snake or crazy person or wild cat or bear
Or allergic reaction.
Never. And then I think,
The creek is running slowly and is small in its sandy banks right now
And as brown and clear as iced tea
And indeed it is a tea, leaves brewed in its water as it flows.
Oaks and pines and cedars hang over it, grow beside it
And I thought to myself that if I lived by a real river of majesty and wonder
I couldn't bear the beauty
This small creek almost does me in
As it runs all by itself, no one to see it but me.