Summer is here:

A little disclaimer; I’ve never written poetry, and this started out as a prose piece but accidently fell into the stanzas you see below. Why something as vomit inducing as a poem about the blossoming of summer? I really don’t know.

At least the word blossoming didn’t make it in to the poem.

Summer is here:

White clouds far far away on the horizon

A sky that can just about be called azure

Women sit on park benches during lunch breaks

Eating oil drizzled salads from air tight boxes

In the afternoon they forget and leave sunglasses perched on top their heads

Cyclists wear shorts and three quarter length trousers

All cyclists, not just the couriers

You can see shadows from the buildings, slanting across the road

It’s 23 degrees

It’s hotter than Spain right now

Yeah, but it won’t last? Will it?


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