A California Heat Wave Poem, or Adjusting to Fall in the Mojave Desert Instead of the Midwest
Some Tongue-in-Cheek Verses From Our Managing Editor
Autumn is my favorite season Or at least, it used to be. For some complicated reasons, Fall is now, sadly, dead to me. Now that I live in the desert There's no September reprieve - I am mourning, even, yes, hurt I miss the changing of the leaves! I haven't noticed one straw maze Or signs for an apple orchard No cider donuts, cake or glazed What is this?! I'm being tortured! The stores have clothes that I can't wear I'd keel over from heatstroke No sweater or ankle boot can bear The wind, the sand, and sun - they'd croak. And where am I to buy carnations? My mini pumpkins and my gourds? Someone, please - how in tarnation Do I find my fall decor? Scented candles are still melting Pumpkin spice lattes just feel wrong It's hard to knit or work on felting When it's 110° all damn day long. And really, that's the problem, there: It's just too - way too - freaking hot. Heat turns wistfulness to despair I think only of where I'm not. Take your hay rides and football games Your stupid cashmere cardigan Meanwhile, my state goes up in flames - I just won't let down my guard again. I won't expect snug, rainy days I won't expect the heat to die I'll let my "fall" just slip away Until it feels like Christmas in July!
I'd just like to note that I sent this to David as a joke ... and it got published! 🤦