We Are not used to the heat.
It weighs on us. Heavily.
Faces sheened in sweat.
And red with the slightest exertion.
Dropping heavily into seats
Soon made sticky.
Groaning and muttering about
'This Heat..'.
Rolling our eyes to the heavens
Loving the indulgence
Of daytime Dozing.
And the Lazy layer of
Hazy goodwill.
That comes in the evening
Over some wine
with a heaven sent breeze.
And when its too hot to sleep
In the night
The salty taste of skin.
And the helpless
Naive optimism
Of a bright blue morning.
With Only time.
To not change a thing.
Lauren Michaels
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-simple-song-for-home-in-the-height-of-summer/
