A Long Hot Summer
Autumnís past and winters been
And weather wise itís all serene,
As springís new growth slips past on gilded wings,
New life starts in a wide display
While bird songs break at dawn each day
And a multitude of sounds that
a brilliant Spring-day brings.
But then as the months slip slowly by
And the sun grows warmer up on high,
Especially as the days draw closer to December,
It brings again past thoughts of heat,
Which to many is quite a treat,
But to me itís the bush-fires that I best remember.
For the Australian bush is a potent place,
In summer time it keeps apace
With the usual rain that suddenly dries up altogether,
The hot sun rises up each day,
A ball of fire that shows a fierce display,
The last green tinge is burnt like burnished leather.
Day after day it burns each leaf,
A burning orbit without relief
And draws each drop of moisture from the soil,
Each day the sunís red-hot rays,
Scorch and burn in a hundred ways
And slowly leave the summer crops in grave turmoil.
As the weeks of January slowly fade,
Thereís nothing left, not one green blade,
As the leaves of bush & shrubs grow limpid in their plight,
When February comes itís worse again,
Without a single sign or speck of rain,
Or any relief from clouds to give some small respite.
The sun shines bright each scorching day,
In a stifling, sultry heat-wave foray
And hearing the forecast, I think, what a bummer,
For thereís no let up from the scorching heat,
Each dayís a previous dayís repeat,
Just another day in this scorching long hot summer.