Someday,
the days will be long again.

The sun will come out and toast the earth.
My legs will shed the shackles of pants,
and tank tops will liberate my shoulders.

The tennis nets will be strung across courts.
I will bike with a breeze rushing over me.
Flowers will push out of their bulbs,
and I’ll be outside watering my cucumber plants.

Me and the dog will go to the park.
A frisbee with slice through the morning,
and we both will run.

I will wear baseball caps
with sunglasses
as I hike wooded trails.

—and my heart will be content.

But then,
I will get tired of all the sweat
and chasing it away with constant showers.

I will yearn for the days
when my skin wasn’t scorches
and lobster-ly.

The new box of boots will call my name.
I will dream of bleached snow,
the silence,
peppered with the gurgling of boiling soup.

For now,
I will hide in the air conditioning
glancing at the calendar,
counting down weeks because I know

Someday,
a chill will drop like a forgotten ghost
and the day will be blessedly short once again