In lazy hot summers, the screen door sighs,
and sunlight stitches gold through the trees;
my dog trots softly where the dragonflies rise,
nose full of dust and clover and breeze.

The porch boards warm beneath our feet,
the day hums low in a honeyed tune;
we share the shade and a lemon-sweet
glass of afternoon beneath June.

She chases nothing, then everything—
a flicker, a leaf, the mail truck’s song;
her ears stand bright like sails in spring,
alert to every sound as she trots along.

By dusk, the heat loosens its woven lace,
and crickets mend the dark with sound;
my hand finds the fur on her gentle face,
and the whole wide world settles down.

So let the summer shimmer and stay,
let dust turn silver under the moon;
with my good dog leading the lazy way,
even the hottest days end too soon.