Hot Summer Days – Prose Poem

Dog days of summer… August enters hot, humid, sticky. Time to stretch out in the sun except summer days have drawn to an end. School is back in session. Students trudge down to the bus stop as the sun beats down taunting them. In the afternoon no time to dip toes in the pool. Algebra is calling. Pi…not the sweet strawberry rhubarb kind tantalizing taste buds. A number in a mathematical equation – A equals pi squared in August when the temperature is 110. Teachers blow hot air about circles. Students dream about pi with an e a la mode. Ahhh…Hot Summer Days.

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How Writers Write Poetry exercise 12 my attempt at a prose poem. Apparently Gretchen’s math class is already working with pi. We had a discussion a couple nights ago about why 3.14 is the only decimal number with a name. As far as we know anyhow. And why pi? Of course, I’m a poet not a mathematician. Mom is little help in these conversations. Maybe Aunt Kati knows.

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