HEAT

    In the winter we wish for heat. The chance to peel off the layers to walk barefoot in the sand and feel the warmth massage the bones of the toes. The idea of heat on the bare skin, sun warming, cooking the epidermis, evenly caressing the air, soothing everything exposed. The idea of exposed skin feeling its response to the evenly dry warmth. The initial stimulation of the sunlight being absorbed on the bare skin. Warming the bones, cooking the blood, slowing the senses and the motion of life.

   As the dog days of summer dry everything the thought runs to find something cool. Makes one want a haircut so short each hair will not be missed. The idea of humans longing for a hot meal is repugnant. The idea of hot and spicy sends the sensibilities a flutter.

   The heat is oppressive it choles the ability to breathe. It cooks the skin into numbness. It boils the blood. Then there is no one or nothing worth touching. It frays the nerves. It changes the landscape producing an alien planet seared to oneness. Each blade of grass burnt to resemble each leaf fallen from the tree. Each petal from a flower looks shriveled. Too much of anything?

   In the winter we wish for too much heat. In the summer we wish for much less heat. There seems to be an affect upon the skin, perhaps it is the evaporation of moisture we find less inviting, perhaps it is the oils dissipating. Whatever it is, it is more than we want or less than we want. The never measure of satisfaction.

   As the nose dries, the eyes no longer tear, the wetness on the palms of the hands is so intense it does not cool the face as it evaporates.

   It is early July with plenty more time for intense heat to swell the senses into a numbness like no other. Without water, longing for water, looking for wetness, cool sprinkles to wake the heated mind. To bring alive the person sitting quietly waiting for winter to again be wishing for summer.