Searching for beacons

I settle onto the whicker chaise

as sun bids adieu to the day

and the moon whispers bonjour

from its celestial home.

Waiting for beacons

of the night to emerge

I become anxious as night darkens

and only the streetlamp sheds light.

Three nights I have seached,

yet there are no fireflies this year

as the earth and gardens have dried

becoming deserts of skeleton sticks.

I have lived for decades and this year

is the first without summer beacons,

where we curse the endless fall of snow,

but now it is barren and wanting of moisture

If this is the way of climate change

I feel for the children, and their children

when a simple joy of chasing fireflies

becomes a memory of their ancestors.

Full Buck Moon - Haiku

drought baren branches

viewed through the full buck moon,

antlers reflected

You know it's dry when ...

I came home to survey the garden and what to my wondering eyes do I spy, but the birdbath ringed with ants drinking the water. I know it is dry but really?

We haven't had rain in over a month though there have been torrential downpours, it doesn't soak in because the ground is so hard. Add it to the stifling heat and wicked winds, moisture is sucked out of the earth in no time. And not just the earth. I watched the water level in The Pond drop nearly two inches in a three day period. When you can dig, the water line is at least a foot and a half below normal.

This wasn't good for June nor into July. All forecasts state "get use to it folks". Maybe we'll have lots of white shite this winter to compensate. I shudder at the thought but at least it's a cooling thought. ;)