Unlike Shelley or Keats, I know nothing of odes,
Except that they're very commodious
In expressing deep thoughts - and my deep thought right now
Is this: That the Sun can be odious.
You remember the fable of the Wind and the Sun,
Arguing which was the stronger,
And the Sun picked a man with a big overcoat,
And said, "I'll bet he can longer
Hold out 'gainst your blistering, hurricane ways."
Sure enough - you know the answer.
And so 'tis in Texas this blistering day,
You would think we were dying of cancer.
Men swelter and sweat; women swoon on a couch,
While the children jump into a pool.
The petunias wilt, and even the bees
Are in search of a place to keep cool.
But what is the use of the fretting and fuss? -
Or even the prayerful petitioning?
The only solution (for humans, at least)
Is the new wonder - air conditioning.

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