The sense of summer

Riding with the fireflies, listening to children play in backyard pools, hearing the chorus of Leo’s lawnmowers to the hammer and saw orchestra, feeling the steam rising off the street after an afternoon shower, smelling of sweet yet sickening smell of summer garbage, noticing the glistening of sweat on the arms and hands that is wiped off on the pants leg but reappears immediately, enjoying the caw of the crows chasing the hawk only to be followed by the squawk of the blue jays chasing the crows, feeling the heat of the enclosed mobile machines as they idle at the intersection, feeding the scurrying chipmunks which seem to come from everywhere, enjoying the momentary coolness from the leafy shade, glaring at the unrelenting brightness, breaking into a sweet after stepping out of a cold shower, being refreshed by the mist of the sprinkler trying to revive the brown grass, and managing the body temperature under the hottest summer in thirty-three years.