Sweeping toward my face is an icy breeze.
It follows the hot sun and flip-flops,
the pleasant cool water,
the lethargy from sticky rooms,
an unending humidity,
now it is just a memory,
a hot sand free-living kinda’ memory.
Now begin the dark, the cold, the bleak.
Remember the summer
as the nights drag longer,
as the leaves swirl and we require
layers, heaters, jumpers, remember
the vibrant green grass
beside the thirsty trees,
the dry cracked mud
sticking up beneath our feet, remember
on warm clear nights,
the starry sky, courtesy of grounded flights,
remember the fading satellites,
the brightest stars and our eyes,
squinting, as we wish away these buildings.
Remember denim jeans rolled up to the knees,
and curling our toes in the cool,
into calm seas,
the breeze on the boat,
the exhilarated faces,
the adventure of summer
as it withers and rots into winter.