it’s the heavy air
the parched grass’s thirst
the dog napping sprawled on a weathered deck
it’s dirt collecting on calloused bare feet
it’s slivers on your palm and pollen in your nose
the whine of insects and the distant chuckle of farm equipment
senses melded together because,
which one is which?
i’m stuck in the lull of it.
and i wouldn’t change a thing