The air is thick and lazy.
All day it’s grown hotter
baking into my skin,

smothering like a wool blanket
pressing me into a lethargic lull
melted right into my rocker.

By afternoon, I see clouds rise up like
forgotten dough over hills in the distance
until thunder cracks over the hum of the AC,

leaves turn up on trees, and
I smell rain in the air
as crisp as an ocean breeze

brushing through the porch railing
gaining speed with each blackened cloud,
kissing my face with the promise of relief.