Summer Cold by Ben Rasnic

It’s 90 degrees out
but I am holed up inside
with the mother of all colds.

My head swollen
as a blue ribbon pumpkin
at the county fair;

puffy red nostrils
perpetually dripping
like leaky faucets.

Find myself
on a sofa filled with quilts
time travelling to Andy Griffith reruns

sipping chicken noodle soup;
lemon, rosemary & peppermint oils
boiling in the kitchen        

my mother singing off key
to the country music
radio station;

slipping once again
into sweet
slumber



Ben Rasnic currently resides in Bowie, Maryland. Author of four published collections (three available from amazon.com), Ben's poems have been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize.