It's Hot, and from the brazen sky, the sun
beats down so hard upon the anvil ground.
The soundtrack by ten million crickets sung
of heat reflected off a wall of sound.
It's Dry and in the sky no hint of cloud
no stately ships to sail the sun's domain.
No rain falls on the ground so freshly ploughed
no rain until the seasons turn again.
It's Still. The only motion is the haze
that roars up from this crematory plain.
No creature dares the sun. All nature stays
at rest till restless night falls once again.
But nothing lasts forever and the fall
will come and change the weather for us all.