Some mornings, the thin cotton sheets
are heavy with humidity, the fabric pills
leaving invisible scratches on my thighs
as I struggle to find the elusive comfort
of a few more minutes burrowed in bed.
Instead, I dream of rain on the metal roof,
lightning streaking through the open land,
illuminating the distant hills for just a moment,
the rumbling drawl of thunder overhead,
making us feel alive, connected, and small.
But when I give up, drag myself out of bed,
rubbing my thighs, a half-remembered itch,
the sky is dark with the pre-dawn light
but no clouds break up the flawless sky:
just another humid day in the coastal desert.