Dog days: Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity

Baby, it’s hot outside. My grandmother used to say, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Women glow.” It’s an old saying. But lately, I beg to differ.

Dog days

(Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity)

My sprint is spent like long-lost lien.

I’ve showered thrice. I’m still not clean.

We wonder why the summer slogs,

But every day will have its dogs.

I puff and pant like mongrel mean.

The temp has dropped a few degrees.

I venture out to catch a breeze.

If just a mile or three I’d try,

My tales would justify some pie.

But after two, I crawl on knees.

God only knows my top complaint.

For He has heard I ain’t no saint.

A trio of excuses grand

I reconstruct to beat the band

And seek a shadow, there to faint.

Get up and move, you soggy slug.

Go grab that water, gulp and chug.

Then stomp those sneakers ‘round the block.

Your alibi’s a crusty crock.

I stand and shrug, and off I plug.

And still I wonder, as I fry,

Will this entitle me to pie?

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Camera Critters: pictures of creatures

Mad Kane Humor: “lean” or “lien”
Meme Express: “venture”

Simply Snickers: “tales” (or “tails”), “trio,” and “try”

Shadow Shot Sunday: “shadow”

Sunday Smiles: something worth smiling about
Sunday Stealing: “God only knows”

Image/s:

 Vintage/public domain image.

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