Bubbles - July 27, 2026

this may look like a drought

in any other place, here it’s

simply July in the desert

the lengthy landscape of frog choirs

along the creek are gone,

some crowded into the

drainage swill at the walk bridge

many are buried in the mud

now encrusted and safe in a mucous bubble

as the stream bed has long died

from thirst

I wonder how they decide who

stays up and who goes under

who continues to splash and sing

and who postpones those pleasures

you know, I wouldn’t mind hibernating

in this heat, though a place at

the beach would also be very cool

but here I am, many of us are,

half alive, in the middle of summer,

still deciding if our bubbles

were ever worth blowing