First Storm Of Summer


The first storm

Of summer

Sometimes lulls

You into its

Gray melancholy,

Wraps you in

A wet misty blanket,

Piles smokers

In doorways

And under overhangs

Trying to keep

Their fires dry,

Hides the street

People away


Relegates the sexy

Ones to dance

 Only in your


In the sunny clips

Culled from memory.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “The Fourth Book”

11:36 AM June 27, 2014