The third poem in the Seasons Cycle, following on from Winter Days & Days In Spring.

Summer Nights

Remember summer nights?
The day was a killer -
the sun was too bright.
It could not have been stiller.
A breeze would’ve been great.
But the sun starts to recede
around about eight.
A beer’s what you need
and a plate full of salad.
That buzzing you hear
is the cicada ballad.
It’s just past New Year.
It’s too hot for sleeping
‘til the southerly wind
finally comes creeping,
and rattles the bins
as it builds to a roar.
It starts about ten
and blows out by four.
And tomorrow again
will be hot when you rise -
by midday the glare
will be killing your eyes.
All that you care
is that daytime will end.
The relief that I find with the fading of light
and a cold one with friends
make me love summer nights.

© Darryn Roberts 2000

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