The burn bans are back on
Sensibly enough
Red-lettered signs standing at the edge of each precinct
Prayers that some random spark will not become
A conflagration that will consume all it touches

The question I have is
How long will it be until
Somebody thinking himself–
And it’s not every man
But it’s always a man
As the saying goes–
Some kind of pitmaster
Skilled beyond the ken of those who
Do the work day in and out
And know better than to light up their grills
In the dry heat and stiff breezes
Will determine that his right to a well-done steak
Trumps the rights of other not to be cooked

I remain happy to write hot stanzas for you–in any season!
Let me know what you need via the form below, and we’ll get started!

Sending support along would help cool you off, too!