The heat was so oppressive, we
Could barely make it up the hill
That overlooked the distant lake.
A shack with cherries there for sale,
A tiny windmill in the yard,
And both of us, exhausted —
The woman said, “Come in. Cool off.”
The air felt like a swimming pool
And you and I ate cherries in our chairs.
This comes back now, I think, because
How often, these days, all we share
Is that we both are tired,
But that such sharing is a thing.
And even one remembered fond,
Might make today, well