The shining stars, to no avail;
like dust behind the dragon's tail
were drifting where my eyes were turned
and beads of surly sweat had burned
accreting chide as pillows churned

and restlessly, the sheets were tossed
a dozen midnight hours crossed
while sanity was looming lost
...the mattress laughed at fits of fray
while scorching where my body lay

stripped to nakedness, the ants
were hatched from silk pyjama pants
while in the sky, the lightning danced
...in clouds that taunted distantly
above the hearth of windless sea

in nether regions, worms a'wriggling!
tickling, oozing, crawling, niggling
that drove me fingering, clenching, giggling
...and thinking how a long, cold bath
would ease this seige of demon's wrath

another open furnace door
emitting rays of reddened ore
I hear the news has more in store
...with night time bearing small relief
from sleepless summer's brazen thief

and all the day, that leads each night
that nuclear curse of heaven, bright
parades in flaunting ways, this blight
...last night, the waxing moon had melted
-summer sloughed in slag and smelted

and now, the fridge light casts a glare
and well inside, my eyes do stare
upon three ripened plums...right there
...whose ownership I do not know
and less, I care, as I bend low
.
.
.
S7 inspired by William Carlos Williams' "This is Just to Say"