This oppressive heat, it chills me to the bone.

To think how a week ago the cold snow scorched
the ground and painted it ash white
as the finger-bone tree branches stretched towards a gray day sky.
The sun shone and made it colder,
made the mid-city seem like frozen tundra,
burying us under so many layers of clothing and despair.
The desolate city wasteland had never felt so claustrophobic.

But now, the heat sears through my closed blinds
as I stay inside to avoid the nice weather
and the “nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
from strangers who appear in the streets
as if emerging from a hibernation state too long inhabited.

It’s at times like these that I pray for rain,
for something to soften the rays of the sun
festering against my skin.
It’s easy to forget the heat in the dead of winter,
but it always comes back to remind us why we love the fall.