It’s the beginning of October in Atlanta
& it still smells like summer.
I thought I heard the rustle of leaves
but I realized that it was just an airplane
Back home, we geared up for winter
We pulled out blankets and hot apple cider
and snuggled up for the drive-in movie
in the back of an old pick-up truck
noses cold, bodies huddled and warm
Here, though, the summer never ends.
The air conditioner sweats and groans
laboring to create a façade of artificial cool,
with the outdoor thermostat still pushing 85
Every night I sit outside on the screen porch
until the rickety old fan
sends shadows dancing from the yellow light
and the mosquitoes slowly take over the darkness
It feels like a dream.
Alaskans are privy to a midnight sun;
Here in Georgia, we have a midnight summer.
It feels like a collection of those moments
when you wake up before dawn
with the overwhelming urge to explore
this wild and empty world
or to wake someone up & share with them
the buzzing, endless night
How can you feel alone, though,
when the sun warmed pavement
radiates heat into the night sky
and for the last few hours of each day
reality consists of nothing
and rain the temperature of your skin?