it’s the heavy air
the parched grass’s thirst 
quenched 
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