By Michael Seese
The break in the recent heat wave inspired me to write the following:
60° F
Last night, 60° Fahrenheit.
A welcome relief from July’s grief.
Windows wide, nature now invited inside.
What a treat. Crickets no longer compete
With the droning fuzz of the a/c buzz.
Their song carries on ’til the birds, at dawn
Wake and greet the sun, a chorus of tweets.
The subtle breeze softly rocks the trees.
Whispers arise, the leaves’ lullabies.
The pillow, sheet no longer wells of heat.
I turn, it’s cool. I swim in a blue pool.
No devil dreams. The succubus seems tame
As she snuggles and nestles into me.
Last night, 60° Fahrenheit.
A welcome relief from July’s grief.
Windows wide, nature now invited inside.
What a treat. Crickets no longer compete
With the droning fuzz of the a/c buzz.
Their song carries on ’til the birds, at dawn
Wake and greet the sun, a chorus of tweets.
The subtle breeze softly rocks the trees.
Whispers arise, the leaves’ lullabies.
The pillow, sheet no longer wells of heat.
I turn, it’s cool. I swim in a blue pool.
No devil dreams. The succubus seems tame
As she snuggles and nestles into me.
Feel free to share your opinion of "60° F."
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