A half dozen or so
Yellow butterflies
Flit among milkweed plants

A bright red bug
Cruises just above
The tips of gyrating blades of grass

I am in the shade of the car
The heat index is high
The wind is hot
But the boys still wanted to ride

I am fasting
It’s all the rage at 45

If I stand too fast
Gyrating with light headedness
I’ll join the grass