Sweltering

My window is left ajar to my left, as it begs for summer breeze to blow. Wafts of warmth enters instead, igniting my forehead and neck to respond feverishly with sweat. To my right, the fan blows. It spins in a frenzy but only serves to discharge more heat, repelling the sombre and unwelcome entrance from my window.

I sit in between. The fan and the window. Like a fence-

Or a net rather,
Of a table-tennis game.
                                                     The sweltering heat is the ping-pong ball.

And although light streams through the pane
Nuanced clouds have triumphed over the evening sun
I breathe in dry dusty earth and anticipate the mucky smell of nature-
I love how the rain smells.

Perhaps, the rain will carry with it whistles of coolness.