On hot days what to do but just wait and see. Lay low and cool off in the shade of the hours. Melting slowly to a state of puddle, one that carry you to the source, the one that sings lullabies and tell stories of long ago winters. It is a shame that now the times are scrambling the seasons into a future inferno. I rest and think and plan my escape to the cool shadow of the night where the birds sleep and the sun burns the underside of my life.