An Afternoon in June

Church bells sing
in the thick, hot air
and humidity clings
to skin and hair;
only AC units growl and grind
in reply. Even the dogs are silent
in the heat of this summer-spring,
and the children have retreated
inside for quarantine.

But, I'm walking in the heat, anyway.
This miserable silence is supreme.

Chimes jangle eerily with a fleeting breeze,
and robins are chirping in the trees.
There's a dead copperhead
curled like an “L” on the concrete,
baked black after two days:
it slithered out from the shade
and died alone.

I'm out here alone and alive.
I'm wondering what's going on
across the world, where radio stations play
so far away.
Is anyone else strolling in a sweat,
or through a chill,
hearing some church bells trill?
Do they feel as small and remote as I feel?

There's no network to connect
solitary creatures across seas.
Only thoughts can take us to them –
or a slight sensation of solemn intuition,
lost across waves of time.

And it is time that took me
from the shade of my home,
crawling out in search
of something
something not of the sun.

But, there's only one soul
walking this street,
and no other to meet.

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About the Author

Anna dwells in the forests and hills of Northwest Arkansas, accompanied by her cat, Pippin. She received her BA in Professional-Technical Writing from the University of Arkansas at Little Rock – but her true passion is creative writing. Throughout her journey as a storyteller, Anna has published both memoirs and poetry. When she is not writing, she is often found reading, drawing, or playing video games. Anna is currently working on a dark-fantasy book series, which involves dragons, Druids, and a world woven by fate.

Anna Robertson
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