The Wrath of Summer

It’s summertime in Georgia,
It’s ninety-eight degrees;
Humidity’s a thousand
With nothing like a breeze

The heat oppresses every one
From rich to simple folk;
We are not getting suntans for
The risk we’ll get heat stroke

I’d like the autumn to come soon,
If I could, I would rush it:
The asphalt down here is so hot
The sun won’t even touch it

So come to Georgia if you want
To feel the wrath of Summer;
Most likely, when you go back home
It won’t be such
A bummer

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One thought to “The Wrath of Summer”

  1. Oddly, we used to get summers like that here. Those smothering super heated summers when it felt like there was no air to breathe, just soup. But this summer — so far — and last summer too — have been pretty much okay. I don’t even have the A/C on at the moment. I could live without the arctic winters … but I admit I don’t mind the cooler, drying summers. Been, by the way, to North Carolina in August … and Arizona in July. Oh, and lived in Israel for 9 years. Past a certain point? There’s no such thing as “dry heat.” It’s just HOT.

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