Slither

In the heat, yes, it's hot,
And we do two things,
Complain, and sit still.
Move slow. Roll under
The blanketing cloud 
Of heat, evasive tack,
Slithering, wishing it
Was muddy to cool us
Off like the reptiles, with
A body temperature not
Heated, not hot, cooler
We complain, moving 
Slower, still, under a big
Frond of shade that 
Distills the sun, distracts
The heat, we sweat but
That does not cool us
Yes, it's hot and we do
Two things, complain
And move slow, sit still