the earth cools
             releases its scent                         like spores

                          secreting poisons.

the whole world dies down a little
                                                in need of a bit of rest.

dewdrops enter you through a wound
              in your hand, your foot, your mouth, you

never knew was there

                                                                until it existed.

everything is washed in this cool blue we will call

             the grass, the aspen, the cricket’s
                                              song droning on and on

             like some sad jazz tune.                          heat

rises and rises,       until finally someone turns on
                 every single star.