Summer Chores

The rickety, clackering old fan
Sucks air from the room
Pretending to cool
But only moving misery inside
To misery outside
In a pointless, sweltering cycle

Steam rises from the filled sink
Invisible in the hateful haze
Of the August afternoon
No amount of complaining
Will end the torment ahead;
That lesson well learned!

So they roll up their sleeves
And squirt the lemony freshness
Batting at “cheaters”
Which refuse to pop
And float instead in magical dozens
By the jetted breath of Joy

Frothing bubbles into piles
With the Mystical Handsprayer
Until there is more foam above
Than water below
Now giggling and grabbing
At soapy goatees

Until with an impish eye,
Handfuls are launched through that fan
To descend in speckles on the lawn below
Whose reluctant barber was
Grousing grumpily at his own duty
Now surprised by summer snow

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