Maybe it will be that even before sunset the house will grow so stuffy and warm that the outside by comparison won't seem the torrid hell it does now. Then I'll go out and sit on the shady back porch and sweat while listening to the crickets who occupy the dense shade under the shrubs and are always the first to begin chirping. Even at that my head will remain as hazy as the sky. It's always this way in this season now. I can try to recall how it once was when I could remain in the heat all day and shrug at the discomfort. I'm glad now I did not know then that it would come to this.
Sunday Verse
Talking
by W.S. Merwin
Whatever I talk about is yesterday
by the time I see anything it is gone
the only way I can see today
is as yesterday
I talk with words I remember
about what has already happened
what I want to talk about is no longer there
it is not there
today I say only what I remember
even when I am speaking of today
nobody else remembers what I remember
not even the same names
I tell parts of a story
that once occurred
and I laugh with surprise at what disappeared
though I remember it so well
