Endgame
with a whimper,
our blankets vanish
in summer's final stage.
Cast the covers off.
As any reader of this blog knows, I love to talk about the staging of the seasons. The last gasp of winter, the first kiss of spring, etcetera, etcetera. I’m obsessed with the planet’s patterns.
There’s always a moment in summer when the heat truly hits: when the last scraps of winter are truly erased. No more blankets, no more jackets, no more boiling hot coffee searing our insides. No more.
Ironically, today’s music is Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood: a song about a climate that simply does not exist in Australia, but that I endlessly enjoy fantasising about.