No Mercy Between Seasons

No Mercy Between Seasons

Too hot summer.

Sweat sticks like a second skin,

air thick as wet cloth in the mouth,

the sun pressing down without shame.

Days stretch longer than patience.

Sleep slips away from open windows,

fans push warm breath in slow circles,

nothing cools, nothing gives.

Shirts cling, tempers rise.

Pavements shimmer and hum,

we move slower, thinking slower,

waiting for the light to ease.

Then wet cold winter.

Rain starts and never explains itself,

soaks through coats, through socks,

straight into bone.

Skies hang low and heavy.

Clouds sit like a warning,

streets shine with standing water,

cars hiss past like insults.

Hands crack, breath smokes.

The cold finds every gap,

slips under doors and collars,

stays longer than invited.

Days turn grey and narrow.

Light feels rationed and mean,

umbrellas flip, buses splash,

patience thins again.

Roast us in summer.

Drown us in winter, why don’t you.

No middle ground, no mercy offered,

just weather having the last word.