I am scorched with the unforgiving heat of July;
And the wind laughed and didn’t care to stop, saying there is nothing to bellow anymore;
I held on to the skirts of the clouds, they did not stop and asked where the water was ;
I asked myself which layer of consciousness I was at;
Burning from within like the olive tree as I dreamt of the cool waters of the rainforests;
The smell of hot and moist ashes irritated my throat as I washed myself with the Amazon rain dripping from the leaves;
I lay in the shadow of the willow tree and slept till the next July.