March left like a lamb
summer started without a second of spring
cold-windy, to hot-humid in the blink of a hummingbird’s eye,
paradise for resting bugs,
leaves, and buds, July flowers announcing
their annual appearance
never ready, warmer clothes crowding closets
summer stuff waiting in the garage, nowhere to go
first warm weekend scrambling to open plastic boxes
looking for cotton, and bugs
quick hurry, unpack the cool fabrics
recycle the boxes, pack up the warm
no warning for heat, except experience
this happens every year, about this time
only the day/date changes
but foresight would suggest
an exchange

before the lamb is roasted

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