How Hot Is It

The picture accompanying this poem is of Igor. He is a Turkey Vulture, a scavenger, a very social creature and the twelve year pet of a Naturalist here in Arkansas. Igor is a star during educational bird shows given at our state parks. He has in his character a soothing quality. Look at his beauty! I always imagine on a hot summer day as his relatives circle high in the sky rather than their next meal they are searching for Igor. We should all be so lucky.

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A newspaper feller,
Asked me a question today.
In a literary manner he said,
“In the summer, how hot is it out your way?
Well sir, I stepped out the door,
Gazing ’round my Arkansas home,
I assessed the local situation,
Land the Osage and Caddo once roamed.
Pardner, I’m no expert,
I don’t claim to know a speck,
But, I can testify to you this;
“It gets hotter than heck!”
So hot the butterflies have melted
Evaporated, to color an Arkansas sunset sky.
Yep, and when I went bass fishin’,
My catch came boiled or bake – really, no lie!
This mornin’ my darlin’ used not a skillet,
She said, “Sit down, your breakfast is made.”
You see, it’s so hot, everyone of our hens,
During the night, fried eggs they had laid.
There are a few other observations,
Things that demonstrate what’s been happening for ages.
We all see it each and every year,
Prognosticated in the Almanac’s pages.
And when the snow birds in SUVs migrate,
In a great flock with eyes toward the northern clime,
Summer is on its way to the South you can bet,
It’ll be hotter than hell in an Arkansas summertime.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour