Thermidor

Harsh
Glaring light
Struck him
With all the force
Of a violent hail storm

Grimly
He glanced cursorily upwards
Sweat trickled into his eyes
The sting a distraction from
His cursing at the day’s heat

He looked upon the heap at his feet
Smirking at the irony of it all

He loathed summer more than she
Though it was her whining
Her constant complaints
That led to his current predicament

No matter
It was what it was

An easing of the tension

Tossing the last bag into his ute
He lit a smoke
Then drove to the tip

He needed assistance once there
The old fridge with all those bags
Weighed about 120kg more than it looked
If he recalled her weight correctly

Returning home
Dark clouds signalled a cool change

Heavy rain was on the way

No one to whine about that any more

He sighed
Mumbling to himself

This summer seems more bearable than the last

© 2010, Mosquitobyte