Instant poem: Not my sun
We lay little in the sand and the sun the sun sweetly squeezed our shoulders. We belonged to our father the sun. We lay long on the lawn doing deals with the sun. We broiled ourselves in coconut oil sizzling our perfect skin for our personal chef, the sun. We opened our arms in the sea and lifted our face to the sun our personal private sun. We married our hero the sun. Now late I know the sun is not mine alone not a personal sun but a neutral one its warming trapped and magnified by too many frantic us. I hide my eyes I hide my skin with cream and sleeves and hats. I show myself to the sun from a darkened peepshow booth not letting him in. And the weather reporter reports with glee another drought embedded another sunny day ahead. Everyone go to the beach! Whoopee! for your personal dose of sun.
~ Rachel McAlpine 2021
We mostly try to avoid it now. Not too difficult in the UK!
Your poem reminds me of Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro which has a lot to say about our relationship with the sun – with plenty of irony too.
I must read that then. Thanks.
Hahaha. The sun is the ultimate provider of energy for all the cooking in the world.
True that. I’m thinking 199 ways of looking at the sun
We are doing our slow dance towards the next sol-stice, which will signal the eventual end of winter for us in the midwest U.S., the end of summer for you. 23.5 degrees we incline towards and away from him. Seasonal dark and light. Amazing. Stay cool and we will stay warm as fall has fell around here.
How our attitudes have changed – nicely evoked
Thanks Derrick. In me there’s a kind of cognitive dissonance when I hear weather reporters raving in ecstasy about unseasonally high temperatures. I too love a warm sunny winter day, yet I am also kind of screaming inside.
That is so true.
Lovely beach scene Rachel. Had a lot of rain recently in uk
Seems to be all or nothing!