The sun stands high, and the dusty wind blows across the land. The very soil, burns from the light, and crumbles to dust. But even still, the lingering insect hoards arrive, to feast on those foolish enough to stay out in the cooler evenings. And so now I sit, under the shelter of my abode, bombarded by heat and parasites. I wait for the day when the skies will cloud over once more, and deliver to us a form of all too comfortable relief.