Summer is June July August. Barbecues and water ice. The flowers of purple, red, yellow. A slight breeze. The measured steps. The humidity that seeps through the pores. The smells of hickory or charcoal. The steak. The sweat beads. The thirst. Lying in a hammock with a cold glass of lemonade. The sand under bare feet. Glistening skin. Laughter. Rain that is damp. The dark sky . The whirl of the air conditioning. The Fourth of July fireworks. Thunderstorms bursting . The buzzing flies. Swarming bees. Eating salads because I want to look nice in a bikini. The wave crashes at my feet. This season is not my friend on the high nineties day. I walk to the store

With a sense of dread

Stay inside it’s safer here

Think away the heat