Wilted lettuce

Wilted bits of lettuce

In June we start to panic
that we’re locked into a drought.
They say that rain is forecast
but there isn’t much about.

If it hasn’t rained for ages
and by that I mean a week,
they start to talk of “measures”
and it’s looking rather bleak.

They show pictures on the tele
of the rivers running low.
We’re running short of water
from Bristol to Glasgow.

And we skulk about the kitchen
trying to keep cool,
we already have the sun burn
we’ve broken every rule.

And the shops sell out of lettuce
and bottles of spring water,
when everyone goes shopping
because they think they oughta.

Out come all the sandals
the shorts you got last year,
kaftans floating in the markets
and there’s bottles of warm beer.

The barbecue is smoking
and the sausages are spitting.
Dad is getting frazzled
but never thinks of quitting.

And Gran sits in the hallway,
a wet towel around her neck.
The dog is looking hopeful
sitting close by on the deck.

The fan found in the garage
oscillates from side to side.
A tiny bit of coolness
to stop us getting fried.

The car is like an oven,
seatbelt buckles burn our fingers.
We try to get some air in
and open all the windows.

The sweat is dripping off us
into our ice cream cones,
and looking at the others
we know we’re not alone.

There are necks red as a lobster
and noses near on fire.
Blisters in the Cotswolds,
sunburn in the Shire.

Swimsuits in all sizes
paraded on our beaches.
Men wedged in their speedos
sucked in as tight as leeches.

Socks inside our sandals,
strap marks on our backs.
Bum bags round our middles,
sand in all the cracks.

Out come the picnic baskets,
the brightly patterned rugs.
We’re fighting off the mossie’s,
those tiny sucking thugs.

Wilted bits of lettuce,
a half baked sausage roll.
Ham curled in a sandwich,
crisps thrown in a bowl.

And everyone is moaning
that it is too hot to sleep,
with duvets chucked off sideways
and clothes left in a heap.

We all are getting worried,
we are counting the degrees.
And all we want in life now
is a gentle cooling breeze.

But soon it will be over,
we’ll be back to dull and grey.
We’ll be yearning for some sunshine
to come once more and stay.

Jan Millward©