Summers are a-comin’

The unmistakable typical smell of unfinished cement exterior, coated by films of dust, in scorching afternoon Sun. No wind. Standing in the shade, the sun is out of sight, yet it makes you squint your eyes. A thin layer of sweat coats your palms and feet if you stay long enough. Yes, it is the advent of Summers. Not yet hot enough for it to be bad standing in the open, yet hot enough. Dry dust in the air and around you.
Summers are coming.
But even more, it is THAT season. The season dreaded and looked forward to since childhood. The time when evenings become suddenly cold and pleasant. When the wind picks up and evenings become longer, while still retaining that charm of winters. Clear skies, intercepted by puffs of traveling white clouds. Yes, this is the weather and the time of the year when as a child I would yearn to play, longer and longer, outside, postponing the moment when I would have to sit in front of the table and prepare for the examination the next day.
The afternoon is the unmistakable time when the double-edged sword (time) would have its effect. That time of the day when exams (in school) would be over, granting relief, a few times I would be home in the afternoon, and also a time when I would think and talk about the exam paper just taken - good or bad, right answers and wrong.
The time for change. The time to get the old class and studies done with, and look forward to the unknown. To the summer holidays, and a new class, new syllabus, new teachers.

Here is a villanelle. This one is an attempt by yours truly, accomplished during a severe bout of my occasional [coffee-induced] insomnia. Can't think of a title yet, so I guess `Insomnia' will serve.

A city sleeps between us two tonight.

Downtown is still up -- suburbs snooze away;

widely waking I scan red skies for light.

Beggars mutter deep in dreams -- they might

wish they picked a purse full of meals someday;

a city sleeps between us two tonight.

Screams and howls fill up air -- the dogs still fight.

A lone cat stalks a silent prowl for prey;

widely waking I scan red skies for light.

The phone cord looks as if it will invite

someone who wants to hear what I've to say.

A city sleeps between us two tonight.

Temples and mosques sound a call for some rite.

The devout ensure all gods hear them pray.

widely waking I scan red skies for light.

Downtown blinks and puts its dreams to flight,

Suburbs stir from sleep to a routine day

A city wakes before us from the night;

Suddenly sleepy, I shut out the dawning light.