In praise of a heat wave

Today, the Sun seems
Its fervid heat
Diffused in languid drops

That fall onto
My neck
And burn toward
My bones

Just today,
The cicadas
Proclaim the triumph
Of heat
Over all
Who walk,
Fly and crawl

The grass sends up damp
Curtains of chlorophyll,
The leaves bow and sulk
Before their intemperate

i stay low,
And remember
The deep snows
And the
Driving storms

The weather,
Like all other spiritual forces,
Is not personal,
Is intensely personal,
Is vast and private,
And self-evident

It makes me want to go on
Sweating, drinking,
Lying in the shade
Of the great question
To which the cicada
The only answer.

--Mr. Gobley