July is county fair and kids and fun and cold beer.
Fans hum loudly in barns, constant as evening kaddids.
July is heat, humidity, tractor pulls and cattle shows.
Tomatos are ready, sweet corn is ripe,
homeade ice cream cools the palate.
The 4th alights the evening sky and bottle rockets pop and snap in front yards,
sparklers delights young eyes while smoke snakes wiggle on sidewalks leaving ashy paths in the twilight.
Picnics pass hazy afternoons, while flys and mosquitos swarm and candles flicker on front porches.
July is high summer.
Dusk is long and lazy, hesistant to surrender the day.
Wheat brings golden gild to boxed-shaped fields as soybeans
reach past knee height.
Corn tassles below fat, white clouds that loaf in the heavy sky.
Butterflies and hummingbirds flight across gardens
as squash and bean and beets are harvested and canned,
water boils off the stove and off the brow.
They say it is so humid you can hear the corn grow!
I sware, when I looked out this afternoon, it stretched an inch before my eyes!
July in the country.
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