Summertime

Summer is hot.
There's Siesta in a sleepy village near the pond.
Lonesome willow pumps juices of the Earth
from the depths
hard as ever.
The river is pooling it's waters
hard as ever.
Villagers act in a dichromic drama:
yellow and gray life
hard as ever.
Sepia heats hard.
It's so hot here and now.

Viennese coffee
drains so long,
like black thread,
into a blue cup
There's some ice and water,
mint, thyme, cornflowers
in a white mug.
The carpet on the floor is so soft.
The adobe walls are so thick.
It's so quiet, as in God's ear.
We live in motion,
from time to time
it's so unbearable 
that we hide here for an hour.
Let's drink some coffee with cold water.
Let's wipe the forehead and nape with ice.
Let's sniff mint, thyme, cornflowers.
Let's feel gentle tickling
in the nose, on the temples, on the cheekbones.
Let's listen to gentle whispers of Earth:
"I love you, my kids".