What's Up With The Weather? Poem by Philo Yan

Is it something the sunspot decrees?     
Almost daily it's 90 degrees
I sit quietly and not move a muscle.
To move or not to move is a tussle.
I perspire.

When will it cease?
At least a temperature decrease?
Where is the welcoming breeze?
I perspire.

Where is the wind, the cloud's own twin?
To blow away the hot and make it not?
When will this heatwave expire?
So freakingly hot, I wish it was not.
I perspire.

Every day I wake up,
wash up even after a long shower   
put on my makeup.
Go to the loo to do number two
it's like an unwelcome sauna
I perspire.

The sun sizzles like bacon and eggs
between cooking meals and brownie bakes
I perspire.

The fan blows full blast
the heat is here to last.
The air bends to conspire
lies dead, a heavy quagmire,  
bows to meet the humid.
I perspire.

The leaves are stifling still,  
The heat keeps rising,
it is not surprising.  
So does the aircon bill.
I perspire.

Where is the rain to soothe
and cools the brain?
The precious droplets
that rid the odors
from a bone-dry drain?
I perspire.

Until then, I'll try to keep cool
and not act or speak like a fool
I will make it a point to aspire 
to not profusely perspire...