Seeking Sneaking Sun


When I sit in the sun I’m overhot,
but inside it’s too chill to bare my knees.
Now matter where I opt for, I forgot
the fickleness of sixty-five degrees
in summer – shifting from the inside out
and back indoors with schizophrenic funk.
It’s just our weather – downy fog about
the bay, provoking me and neighbor skunk.

I’m used to polecats underneath my place –
they share the ground with ‘possums and perhaps
racoons (I hear but seldom see a face).
My yardmates as a rule are taking naps
while I’m awake, but lately there is one
big skunk that seems to want the midday sun.

This entry was posted in Critters, Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

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