Once every few years (maybe every year?)
There comes a humid summer of desire:
Kids flaunt uncovering clothes and rip a beer,
Younger teens test their part-discovered fire;
Then sun and sweat break like waves on a reef,
Hands brush, eyes laugh, lips smirk -
A roll of thunder, and the pool is closed…
The kids pair off with interchanging clothes
And who the hell can concentrate on work!
If you've any comments on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen would be pleased to hear them.