Thursday, August 28, 2014


we were running in the evening air
the top of the hill our finish line
both of us panting at the end
she so near to me I tingled
as a mist of breath caressed my cheek

this morning boys jog in the park
a tall girl swings on a low tree branch
yearlings        faces not yet marked
they feel the sunlight on their face
dampness of the still-wet grass

later we were together        close
in the deepest corner of the empty barn
the scents of hair and skin and earth
all the many colors
                        of the end
                                    and the beginning

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Wet Bulb Thermometer

Usually it’s a dry heat here
but the last week brought humidity
and air conditioners grind on overtime

until the midnight bedroom windows
offer cooling currents of relief

side by side         the sheet pulled half way up
we search for pleasing weather words

temperature is nice       barometer too clinical
dew point has a sensuous ring

now the wet bulb thermometer
sounds a little twisted for our taste

but it offers numerical measurement
of how a casual arm would feel
laid across the arch of waist

and how a finger will glide on flesh
in a night when skin feels perfect touching skin

and gentle movements quickly leave behind
the state of the wet bulb thermometer

©Frank Kearns 2014