Sunday Evening

What a difference from last Sunday, she thinks

As she breathes in the heavy air of the evening sky

Even though the clouds have finally lifted

the air remains heavy, weighted with nature’s garbage

She wonders how people survived in this place before air conditioning was invented

They must have been cold blooded or thick skinned, she decides

But then her thoughts turn to the events of last week

The cool air blanketed by fluffy clouds blocking out the sun

Stirring up a chilly, brisk wind

Not a great day for a picnic in the park

What she wouldn’t give to have been at that same park on this hot, sticky day

But a a nice, cold serving of frozen yogurt is a satisfying replacement

And she realizes that she had a perfectly happy, do nothing day

As she lays down to sleep on Sunday evening.