The Tree

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 The Whirligig #380

Prompt words in red.

photo source

On this singularly hot day the air sizzles and bare feet burn.

Sunbeams like flame beat down, my thin cotton t-shirt worthless. 

I’d wet it not long ago, but can’t spare more water.

I hear my brother’s voice up ahead, ecstatic, calling out

good news.  The only other sound is our own heavy breathing

breaking the weighty silence. Even the cicadas have enough

sense to take cover.

He’s found reprieve from the heat.  A small tree at the edge of

the dusty road offers cool, if scant, shade. 

 

Ten minutes rest, a few swallows of once cool water, then our

journey must continue.  


©2022 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved

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