dog dayz of summer

For the record, I am not a hot weather girl.  This past week I feel like the ground squirrel who lives in our back yard: darting out for necessary but brief trips, and quickly returning to my dark hole. Even with air conditioning I still wake up more tired than when I went to bed.  Something about 3 AM brings on a spike in body heat and I wake up tangled in the sheets, hot and frantic for some air.  I toss and turn, eventually dropping back into a sleep from which I can barely surface come morning.

I have been cracking the proverbial whip as I have been invited to contribute paintings to an upcoming exhibit at the yoga center where I teach.  When I accepted the invitation, it seemed like summer was a long stretch of road I could meander through with plenty of time to noodle about and paint.  Now I have just 2 weeks in which to complete 4 pieces in various states of incompletion.  

And all I want to do is nap, drink mint ice tea and read novels.  And poetry.  In preparation for the ecourse Poem It Out, I've returned to a daily writing practice.  Hence all the poem-y bits floating about this space in recent weeks.

Thinking about the heat, my general ennui, and the texture of my life these days, I wanted to put down how these summer days feel to me.  Moose dog is not a fan of this weather either, so our morning walks have been the only respite from our otherwise heat-induced comas.  So Moose, this poem's for you.

 

today  

I had planned on waking early 

giving myself time to notice the textures and sounds of my morning, 

to place myself within this day.  

but instead I hit the snooze 

repeatedly 

unable to disentangle from a dream where 

I was painting  - my hands running across the surface of the board 

smoothing and spreading color and paint – 

clutter of bags and brushes and books and notes 

blocking me from moving forward in the dream and into my morning.  

today 

I feel the heaviness of the weather, 

of emotions stooping my shoulders 

filling my heart 

while thoughts crowd my head.

before stumbling downstairs I check in and see 

my girl adrift in her own shadowy world of dragons and Scooby Doo 

a starfish beached upon tumbled sheets.  

I head out into the sprinkler-saturated morning 

camera in one hand, leash in the other 

attempting to capture something of this day 

to string together the moments  that will guide me 

out of my fog and into spacious being. 

tomorrow

i will try 

again.