fdelano Posted July 18, 2013 Share Posted July 18, 2013 In heliacal rising, Sirius heralds days of sultry, sweaty, unending misery of heat and bugs for an old Georgia boy who still hates and resents the red old hills and slavery in the plowed fields, every molecule filled to limits with water going straight to the lungs, hampering brain food. I praise whichever god provides cool dry air in my refuge, like being in the ICU, and think of my destitute ancestors who endured the endless rows of plowed fields, accepting their lot, and soon, I plan to wobble out to soak my withered frame in the cool water of my Olympic-size pool. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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