The summer has long spider legs
That curve under me and keep me
Spinning in a dizzy, hot laziness.
I listen across the damp, still dark
To the continually commenting crickets.
The tree outside my window twists a little —
It must be almost morning.
I hear the bare feet of the crab women
Thudding on the pavement.
The moaning roll of wooden cart wheels rumbles in the
distance,
Comes nearer and grumbles away again.
If I fan with my fingers,
It might make a little win.
Summer is so still in the dark,
Like an old, old lady
Nodding.
This piece originally appeared in New Strung Bow, a book of poems written by Sarah Lawrence students that was published in 1932.