The weather evaporates like a feverish smog,
burning through the retinas of your eyes
that bathe in the transparent summer skies.
You salivate with the intensity of a prairie dog.
The steam clouds are now warning signs,
their message one linked to the intense drought
a desert creature wouldn\'t sweat out.
You treasure the sun in lurid lines.
The timeless sand is in your dusty throat,
smoking out the remains of a incandescent fire
stoked up by the fumes of a red-hot desire.
Your quench for thirst tends to float.
The fizzing cauldron of a globe lingers on.
It is like the vapours in a smoker\'s breath
whilst the birds swarm in circles of death.
The rain is welcome and has shone.