chance of rain

it rarely rains here
like they say it will
forecasts are changed
percentages adjusted
my hammock taken down
only to be put back up

there were clouds
thin wispy layers of gray
with bright blue patches
and fingers of brilliant sun
sneaking through
all afternoon

but no rain
just the broken promise
in those scattered clouds
delivering a sunset
painted from a palette of
yellows deepening to
oranges turning to
pinks before fading
to grays

i brought my hammock in
as the sky darkened to a
thirty percent chance for tonight

i’ll hang it again tomorrow


these late afternoons
in the hammock
between the trees
are supposed to
lend themselves
to flashes of
poetic inspiration
what with me relaxed
in the warmth of a
dappled patch of sun
penetrating the cocoon
of branches and leaves
and the steady rocking
of a slow wind

instead i end up with
minor lower back pain
wind-cooled extremities
and a dribble of drool
dried to my cheek


this hot weather is making me lethargic
and nostalgic for a hand knit hammock
suspended between two wooden posts
propping up the corrugated tin roof
that kept the sun out of my eyes
while i focused on the crowns
of a distant trio of coconut palms
before snapping a photograph
that will always evoke memories of
intermittent warm dusty breezes
weeks in sweat drenched t-shirts
bucket showers of cool sticky well water
and the image of my grandmother
in socks, sarong, knit sweater, and beanie
snacking on green grapes while lounging
on an identical hammock three feet away