I Love Summer

I love summer.

I love the oppressive heat, the sun beating down against exposed flesh. The hot, dry westerlies which blow long into the night. I love the thick humidity, when walking feels akin to swimming, and when the sweat sticks sweetly to your skin—refusing to give you a moment’s comfort. I love the smells, the scent of salt hanging heavy in the air, the aroma of the flora, flooding my olfactory organs with their heady brew. I love the colour, deep greens and soft blues, diffused by a lingering haze. The grey-green of the ocean, now blue as the atmosphere refracts from its churning surface, stretching far into the horizon; blue against blue, where the ocean and sky dissolve as one. White sun burns my eyes, white sand burns my feet, which I bury, the grains cool underneath. All about me cloth of every colour floats, hanging loosely from bronzed-coloured skin. I love the sound of cicadas buzzing their song, the roar of the ocean and hum of contentment.

I love the sweet relief of the afternoon tempest, fat drops of rain that melt on parched skin and baked concrete alike. The cool blasts of wind, lashing like whips of sweet bliss. I love the towering dark, anvils forged in summer flame, their heaven-reaching shadows turn the bright contrast to saturated grey. I love the flash of pink lightning, Thor’s hammering boom, the echoes of titans. I love the smell of dust before fresh-falling rain, the tang of day washed down by sweet water. I love the roar as the climax thrills my ears, a cacophony for the senses; music on the roof.

I love the swelling heat that follows squalls past, the lingering rainbow, the soft, cool, wet grass. I love the storm-washed sky, clear clouds that linger on, are painted gold-pink by the setting sun. The warm nights that follow, filled with smiles that taste the most magnificent morsels, sweet fruits and cool drink. I love the sound of laughter, and the crickets that chirp, raising their voice with cicadas. Bright eyes, warm skin, cool sweat, hot breath.

I love summer.