A languid afternoon
in heat
that feels like summer.

I turn the fan on and stretch
across the bed. Listening
to its subtle crooked whir,
I wonder if fans
become unscrewed
from their hinges.

Through the thin rectangular screen,
I watch the same tree
I've watched
for months.

Though as always with spring in a hot country
it seems the leaves have burst like flames
upon branches
that appeared as though dead.