I welcomed the lack of heat, thinking
that there wouldn’t be any more of
summer’s oppression, the pressure under,
over, everywhere, cooking me from within.

In summer, the sun weighs down,
disheartening from dreams,
while the wandering, distracted mind
meanders, wishing to be someplace else,
wishing to be free, somewhere else
where I live, am listened to, am esteemed,
someplace else where I never fear being suspect
for being something less than ideal, a place where
my words always have weight just for what
they are, not from whom they come from.

Future possibilities, how I would
welcome you on my hot skin
like a perfectly cool breeze.