At 7:00, it’s already hot, two hours past solstice dawn.

The paths are full, as if it’s noon.

Dog walkers, mountain bikers, runners all seek to avoid the dire prediction.

Heat Apocalypse.

Record-breaking 100 degree temperatures expected for days.

Few air conditioners in the Pacific Northwest,

Where we used to call June “Junuary” and complain about the summer rain.

Ah, for those days.

And yet, the birds sing, accompanying me as I walk.

Do they know?