Acclimation - June 24 2023

 

Acclimation

June 24 2023

Each season, I acclimate;

thin-blooded summers

winter fat.

But in this oppressive heat

I struggle to adjust.

The sun

directly overhead

feels relentless,

obliterating any hint of shade

and setting too late.

While the sweltering air

thick with humidity

makes every step a slog,

my body limp, damp, sticky

brain fried.

How I long for winter,

with its crisp invigorating air

and long cozy nights.

Or better yet fall,

with its clear light

and mild temperament;

a welcome interregnum

of calm.

But forget spring,

the season of mud, bugs, thaw,

with wild swings

of hot and cold

rain and snow

and bleak depressing thoughts.

So hot

I feel decadent, weak, debauched,

susceptible

to the slightest chill

and drained of ambition.

But who on earth complains

when summer finally comes?

Just ingrates and contrarians

and old curmudgeons like me, she says.

Can't disagree, I respond,

swatting away mosquitoes

and slipping quickly inside.

Where it's cool

and easy on the eyes,

a tall icy drink

temptingly calls.