Taking a last deep breath
of the cool circulating air,
I open the car door and step out
into the Texas heat.
Palpable and cloying, it hits me:
steamy fingers clawing little troughs of sweat
along forehead, cheeks, and back;
the wetness sticky on my skin as it trickles and evaporates.
I think about the two Ansel Adams photographs on my desk:
Cathedral Spires with its snowy peaks
stretching upward like fingers grasping at heaven;
El Capitan, partly blotted out by tendrils of snow
that smoke and curl as if coughed up by a prairie chimney.
Overheated cells cool
as light and shadow play in my mind;
blowing snow fills the furrows
of sweat, creating tiny snow drifts in their place.
The pavement, cracked, buckled, and baked
by too many summers,
begs moisture and shade beneath my feet;
but I'm untouched by the Texas heat.
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Reviews
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Hi, Dannan, and welcome to the site. I happened to see your name online just now, so I thought I'd pay a visit.
This poem is a strong impressionistic piece for me, not only with its contrasting physical sensations between air-conditioning and furious Texas heat, but also with its poetic discipline. The lines are well constructed, and they contain specific images of the feeling of heat that's soothed and cooled by imaginaing Adams' glorious photos. For me to enjoy, the poem is conceived imaginatively, then executed with skill, and without pretensions.
All of its works, in my opinion. The occasional alliterations ("fills the furrows" is especially fine) and internal rhymes ("sticky on my skin as it trickles" - nice!) all add up to an enjoyable and satisfying work - and that final rhyming couplet sums it all up.
I've visited Fort Worth a few years ago for five days in September; your poem brings back all that hotness! And I've got an Adams over my desk that can always cool me down in any heat of anxiety. So, your poem touched me just right.
Later...
Lad
. Rewarded 8
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This is lovely,
such a portrait of the human experience of a burning hot summer against a fantasy of snow... perfect photo, Ansel Adams is great, there's been an exhibition here in Edinburgh the year, beautiful stuff, quintessentially the emotional heartland. A precious fantasy of America... the reality is so often more like the heat, is it not?
I particularly like
Overheated cells cool
as light and shadow play in my mind;
blowing snow fills the furrows
of sweat, creating tiny snow drifts in their place.
What strength of mind, to overcome all Texas... : >)
Best
Alex B. Rewarded 8
Lad
March 28, 2008
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