a summer's morning

i see faint breaths of clouds in the red-orange warmth creeping silently over the horizon... so faint, it makes me wonder if they are not, in fact, clouds, but rather wrinkles in the back-piling of blistering, scorching heat too anxious to greet us.
then, i feel a cooler breeze off the freshly-watered park, and i remember:
it's only 5am.

still, i sweat.