http://poetrybreakfast.com/2016/04/06/honeysweat-a-poem-by-becca-burke-allison/
It calls up summer nights in Birmingham, Alabama, in the 60's. We didn't have air conditioning, so our father built a huge box fan that fit in the dining room window and blew outward. Then we opened the windows of our bedrooms and the fan pulled air in those windows and out the fan window.
The breeze was fresh and wonderful. It dried our little sweaty necks and the spots behind our knees. We could smell the night air and hear the crickets and cicadas as we fell asleep.
Sometimes I think we lose something with the advent of air conditioning. No, I know we do.
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