I AM SICK OF SUMMER
Sweat.
June denial. It’s not so bad. Cool mornings. Deluded reality. Thermometers gleefully bursts past 115 degrees, in a fit of spite. Dragon’s morning breath.
Plants shrivel in the outdoor oven and reach; plaintive arms to the sky. Desperate for relief.
The parched earth sighs.
White, blinding light sears the skin. Dogs pant, their heads droop.
Dripping sweat.
July despair. Heavy, stifling, never ending suffocation. A.C. runs nonstop and swallows money.
Luscious, fat moisture of bloated cotton puff clouds entice; then vanish.
Gargantuan brown swirls of dust tentacles howl in. Lightning flares. Thunder rumbles. Trees blow over. A tornado of dead leaves. No rain.
Giant bugs stumble; meander aimlessly, confused.
Snakes hide. Lizards flee.
Dripping, sweaty sweat.
August disgust. Dispirited souls. Time stops in purgatory. Life is pointless. Outside tasks are too much effort. Monster heat feeds on human energy.
The sky rumbles and urinates.
The air cools, briefly bearable. Toads emerge from their holes.
A vicious sun re-asserts control.
Less sweat.
September hope. Summer loosens its grip, but still holds on. The glare wanes. Air softens. Summer birds leave, flying off to gentler climes.
Two months more and summer’s gone.
I can’t wait.
I agree that August can be unbearable. Back in MA, July was the worst, but there were still the muggy, 90 degree days in both months. Here on the CA coast we still can get muggy, hot weather, but no where near as often in the summer. Last year, though, we had the Santa Ana's 90 degree days at odd times throughout the year. It's supposed to be very unusual, but I wonder if climate change has something to do with it. This fall, the El Nino floods are predicted to hit. With all the wildfires stripping the earth, there will likely be landslides of mud and rocks. Almost lived here a year.
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