The Dog Days of Endless Summer

55, windy, blue skies.
They said it would be “crisp,”
And it was.
And tonight, near record low
45 degrees in August?
Tent camping would be chilly,
I think to myself
Over three cups
Of steaming hot coffee.
But it’s only month three
Of the only three months
Of Endless Summer
We get in these parts.
My dogs shake and shiver
Dive under the covers
And resent my resolve to keep
Our outdoor morning habits.
Still chasing the wave
That elusive crest
That peaks over mid-July,
And slides full-tilt into Autumn.
One dog eats two breakfasts
Burps three times
Instead of the usual one
As there is hibernating
Soon to be done.
Like a grizzly bear,
He pads his summer weight
Bulks up his white bunny-soft fur
For the times to come
When we most patiently will long
For Spring.