Summer Teacher

The cats settling into stout middle age.
The way hummingbirds levitate in the trees
patiently waiting for sugar water.
My legs function these bright at six mornings.
It must be summer.

The phone never rings with calls from
anyone I want to speak with.
How everyone here has a little extra
something in them that shines.
It must be summer.

How heat saps any strength to move.
How the energy is gone at 3 pm or earlier
everyday. How the mind closes up shop
puts a sign out that says back in two months.
It must be summer.

The anger at my vacation and constant
napping at disgraceful intervals.
Plan and develop or reconstitute the mind?
The annual question that means
it must be summer.