Summertime heat swelters, sweat trickles
down your face – wash those sticky hands from
the melting ice cream.
Grab that garden hose, there it is,
the one fillin’ the pool where the kids waddle
and soak in the sun while the Rastaman
sings from tiny speakers.
There ain’t nothin’ like summer days –
even the virus can’t stop us from cookin’
burgers and gatherin’ on red-hot afternoons.
(Photo by Raphaël Biscaldi on Unsplash)
3 thoughts on “Summer Days (a poem)”
I love the warmth which radiares from this poem, Nick! You’ve captured the nonchalant tenderness of the summer days. ✨🦋🍃