mule deer are walking where I water stopping for a moment under sun-
dried trees forgotten slurping grasses turned to dust golden goatheads
hard, thriving arrive from lakes, late in long shadows attempt to
disappear in curtains of red
wind has pulled them back demanding, los animales are becoming tame
in ways you cannot imagine, bald eagle young loitering under trees too
hot to roost in, flying across a 2 lane chased by smaller birds, small
birds who multiply on sprinkler water people have left out, food that
arrives in plastic bags sitting on picnic tables, performing for cats in air
conditioned trailers
it goes over 100 over a week, takes one degree after another & when
done, you are surprised by how much you can stand & wonder where the
hummingbird hides during late afternoon surely not in the muddy sock
slung over a branch unseen behind drying leaves, & finches & wrens
rush out to the sprinkler, pull up worms in the sopping grasses, crinkly
first, green, dry, thirsty everything is thirsty, robins pause, beaks open
they all are on the ground in spray from torn parts of the hose cats fly
from one window to another
spiders don’t seem to mind mice come in, the creature who makes
tunnels in the yard makes more where the water goes
the hydrangea is bitterly disappointed
Constance Bacchus lives with her daughter in the Pacific Northwest. Her work can be found in IceFloe Press, Feral, Dreich, Permafrost and Cirque. Lethe was her first book, followed by Swirl, Wind, Secret Dam Things and RV Parks & Politics. She is @bconnie509 on twitter.