The afternoon air hung heavy
In the desert
Like a mild haboob.
Morning relief
Was sought with
Doors and windows
Flung open and
Fans set counter-clockwise
To pull in the
Morning air like
A cool, cleansing mist
Dropping down on dry, dusty
heads.
They thought about
The suffocating, summer heat
To come and looked forward
To the road trip back East
And summer on the shore of
The Big Lake.
Four months ago, four more
Days on the road
Would have felt oppressive.
Now it seems a liberating
Ride to freedom — at least an
Escape of sorts from
Things as they are.
If only such were so
For the country enduring
The suffocating haboob
Of a presidency not
Quite two months into
What now feels like
An infinity of four years.