It's Still Life

Miz Quickly’s Day Two: All About Heat

I.
I Remember Rain That Felt Like Silk

I’ll be an old nag, obdurate, and
still sucking on a Werther’s Original
by the time temperatures soar like
what Attenborough’s always saying,

and I reckon the wind will blow
eight-beats to a measure with your
hair-blowing cyclonic in your face,
with brown-burnt grass torched

off the ground. That sort of heat is
muscle-loosening, and you’ll be
always tilting forward, ’cause that’s
what you do just before you faint.

But I doubt I’ll see it. I’ll be an old
nag, still sucking on a Werther’s.

II.
Bits of Bread (for Stream of Consciousness Saturday)

The oven’s hot, rippling heat through
the grills and grates. Takes half of
Sunday to get it up to smoking speed,
and a bit of last week’s pork roast fat’s

rising through my nose like intoxicating
incense. This afternoon, baked a loaf
of pumpernickel rye, and a sourdough,
that takes nearly 2 hours, and then

I used up the oven’s residual heat
for a Yorkshire pudding that took off
rising like an echo. If I had the dialect,
this pudding would feel right at home.

For Miz Quickly’s Day Two Image prompt, and the second piece is for #SOCS Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021