The evening blinks with lightning bugs and rain.
The thirsty fennel softens on its stem
and crowns of cabbage palm and hickory
obscure the milky moon. Humidity,
like glue, confines us to our chairs. We sweat
and rock. The heat: a language that the whippoorwill
repeats, repeats. The garden smells of mold,
and air plants look like demons in the oaks.
The wicker gives and takes and creaks while frogs
ignite their throats tonguing jeweled insects
off the tusks of fronds, and isolated
lamps of houses burn behind their curtained
rooms. In this momentary equipoise,
in air too still to stir, we sit apart
and watch the poison glisten in the snakes.
Ann Wood-Fuller is a published poet living in North
Central Florida. She has studied at the creative writing department
of University of Florida and is currently a landscape poet. Her work
has been published in many reputable journals across the United States
and she regularly attends conferences where she reads and discusses
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