Effulgence (January)

[For Winsome Thomas] 6am 30o at the backdoor. Will it climb, the mercury with nowhere to escape its thermometer, to a record high? Early risers water tomatoes. They move about at record slows. Light-weight clothing. Birds remind us it’s morning, in case we’re in denial. Then effulgence, the sun that burns away adjectives, gets above the treeline. Windows glint their lengths on hillsides. The sun is not to be argued with. There is no argument, Madame Speaker. Trees and humans ready themselves. Cats find January shade. One day the effulgence will burn out, but not today, not in this lifetime.