that time of year

There's more daylight to go around. It's 6 AM and the sun is already peeking through my window blinds. Even Bob Marley wants to move his dancing feet. I complain it's hot and I drink hot coffee. I recoil at the thought of hot, pollen-filled gusts but I roam the trails on a two wheel. Last weekend felt like summer. It burned.



We are a fever. Get over it.