The sun turns the air to the consistency of treacle.
Basking in the sun are the teeming people.
Swarming on any open space, like kicked over ants’ nests.
Women in bikinis, men down to their string vests.
Flesh already turning a bright cherry red.
And people eat outside, as if it were the med.
A Black Dog pants in a drought ridden tree’s shade.
And it is so bright that all the colours fade.
For a short, short time, it is sunny and warm.
And the only people unhappy, are those who tend lawns.
(ok written last summer)
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