After three weeks of triple digit heat index,
the next muggy morning could be the one
that sends you right over the edge.

A man could find himself on a ledge,
wondering whether the fall
would be that much worse
than this petulant summer sultriness
that has twisted blades of corn
opened cracks in the dirt
and even wilted the leaves of small trees
growing against the brick edge of city buildings.

Walking out into the early light
of the last Saturday in July,
I saw a heavy dew beaded on the fescue
beneath the fence
and knew that the night
had brought an unexpected coolness.

And so we sat on the sun-faded fabric
of the outdoor chairs on the patio,
sipping coffee and staring off
into the blue blur of distant bluffs,
sharing small stories
and right thankful for a mid-summer morning
that was this much other than what we expected

and grateful for the connections
that have led us to this good place
in the quiet space between where we were
and where we will be
when the heat comes slumping its way
back into our lives

and knowing that by God’s good grace
we will yet see good days
and thrive in ways we could not have imagined
even if the sky itself should fall limp and wilted to the earth.

H. Arnett
8/3/17