Dear Fire of the Sky, each morning you rise,
With a radiant glow that brightens our eyes.
But why do you turn up the dial so high?
As if you’re intent on making us sigh?

Do you crave seeing eggs crack on the ground?
In the sizzling heat where relief can’t be found?
Oh, why can’t you settle on one steady degree?
Like an oven that bakes but still lets us be free?

We cherish the flowers, the grass, and the trees,
The beauty you bring, the soft whispering breeze.
Yet, when your light dims and the sun starts to fade,
Why not cool us down, let sweet shadows invade?

Imagine a fridge, when the day starts to close,
Turning down the warmth, letting comfort compose.
If only you’d soften your fiery delight,
And grant us a moment of coolness each night.

So, dear Mr. Fire, can’t you hear our plea?
Just a little ice in that hot soul of thee.
For in the balance of warmth and of chill,
Lies the perfect embrace, where nature stands still.