She welcomed the lack of heat, thinking
that there wouldn’t be any more
of summer’s oppression, the pressure
under, over, everywhere
cooking her 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 she lives, is listened to, is esteemed,
someplace else where she never fears
being suspect for being something
less than ideal, a place where her
words always have weight just for what
they are, not for whom they come from.
That place she wants to welcome on hot skin
like a perfectly cool breeze.