Plea to a globe in the oven

Written by: Luminita Stoica

A little stream of bubbling sizzles, 
Came near my toes and through my fingers.
As I was watching the air flow, 
My heart was racing, then went slow. 
I couldn’t cope with all the stress;
This anxious, noisy, grey regress. 

The aching longing for a breeze,
Even the slight wind of a sneeze,
Would calm the skin and the forehead 
And rinse the heat with chill instead.
If jumping clouds would cure this mood,
And concrete buildings stripped to nude… 

Blow ice drops near the neck, oh Pole!
Cover this rock’s feeble shield’s hole!
Make streets gently slide and noses frost,
Take the breath of the core home at last!
Fly to the far corners of both Norths,
Bombard the middle with freezing slopes!